


Loki Odinson and the Hogwarts Housemates

by Coneycat



Series: Housemates [10]
Category: Being Human (UK), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bullying, Community: norsekink, Crossover, Family Feels, Gen, Housemates AU, Kid Fic, crossover of a crossover, minor OCs - Freeform, various characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:37:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 116,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coneycat/pseuds/Coneycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki Odinson, younger son of a high official in the Ministry for Magic, has never had a real friend and hopes that will change when he starts his first year at Hogwarts. Then he learns something that makes even that hope seem impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **_Notes:_** A fill for [**my own prompt on norsekink**](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/11337.html?thread=27460937#t27460937), asking for Loki to go to Hogwarts and be Sorted into the House that will do him the most good. I'm deviating a little from the details of the prompt, but the OP (me) and I have discussed this and it's fine. This is a crossover between the Housemates-universe I write about, and  Harry Potter. In other words, it's a crossover of a crossover, and an AU of an AU. I just hope it works! 
> 
> Also-- there are a certain number of differences between the Harry Potter books and the movies, so I might find myself drawing from either canon source. Loki is drawn from the MCU-influenced Housemates series-- this is pretty much how I picture that character when he was eleven. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Kid-angst, lots of it, in the first few chapters. Loki isn't old enough to have much perspective about anything. You may remember a time when everything was terrifying, and probably the end of the world. That's where Loki is right now, and although it's all very real  to him, you should be wary of taking his perspective as the unvarnished or objective truth.

Loki let himself into the house as quietly _(slyly)_ as he could, crept _(slunk)_ up the stairs, and hurried down the hall to his bedroom under the eaves _(sneak sneak sneak)_. Closing the door behind himself, he crawled into the space in the corner, under the overhang of the sharply-slanting wall and hidden from the doorway by the bed. 

Then he curled into a ball of misery, forehead on his knees and his arms wrapped tight around his folded-up, skinny legs, and cried. The crying was as quiet _(sneaky)_ as everything else he had done, and at the same time his ears were alert for the sound of pursuit. 

His older brother, and his brother's friends, were really angry at him this time. It was bad enough that he had followed and spied on them, despite Thor telling him in no uncertain terms that he was not wanted. When they had caught him, dragging him out of the bushes down at the rocky beach where he'd been hiding and watching their jinx duel, Loki had threatened to tell their parents about both that sorcery, and the Audito charm he thought they had used to catch him. 

That part had been only a guess, since Loki _(sneak)_ was quite sure he had not made enough noise to be heard over the racket the older kids were making with their jinx duel. And anyway, Loki was not at all confident their parents would think Thor's friends using underage sorcery, at least not here so far from any Muggles, was worse than Loki slinking and prying where he knew he wasn't welcome. 

Thor must have come to the same conclusion, or perhaps he was simply too angry _now_ to care about punishment _later_ , because he had grabbed Loki as Hogun and Fandral held him-- by the _throat_ , not the arm or the shirt or any place you might later say was harmless, meant nothing, but by the _throat_ \-- and had shouted into Loki's face that he was sick and tired of _skulking_ and _spying_ by people who were _too stupid_ to know that _nobody wanted them--_

\-- And that was when a lot of rocks, half the beach worth by the looks of it, had risen up in the air and flown at Thor and his friends. Loki had been hit too, although not by nearly as many rocks as the others. Thor and his friends had lost their grip on Loki, and he had fled before they could recover enough to do whatever it was they had intended to do when they dragged him into the open. 

He hadn't meant to do that, he _hadn't_. He wouldn't get in real trouble even if Thor told: he wasn't eleven, not for another week, and nobody expected a kid who hadn't even started at Hogwarts yet to be able to control magic. Loki hugged his knees harder and told himself that, but he didn't really believe it. 

The Ministry wouldn't pay any attention to these little spikes of magic, Loki knew. There was nothing much to fear there: Elder Cross was a magical village, and grown witches and wizards were doing magic all the time. The Ministry could tell where magic was being _done_ , just not exactly who had done it. It was up to the adults to keep their kids from practicing underage, away from Hogwarts. It was Dad, and Mum too, who would deal out whatever punishment they felt was called for. 

And if Thor told, Dad would be _furious._ Loki knew perfectly well there was a big difference between using Audito to watch out for spies-- or practicing the kind of spells you could use to defend yourself against attack-- and using magic to throw a hundredweight of rocks at someone, never mind whether you had really meant to do it or not. Dad would say that was Dark magic, and Dad had been an Auror for far too long to tolerate anything like that, even in a member of his own family. He'd lost an eye in the Second Wizarding War, ten years ago, fighting against Dark sorcery, and if he knew... if he thought for a second...

Loki shivered at the thought of what Dad might think was an appropriate punishment for an outburst like this. It all depended on whether Thor was angry enough to tell on him, and risk Loki giving him away over the listening charm, and the jinx duels, and a dozen other spells and charms and hexes Thor and his friends practiced here, thinking it didn't matter as long as no Muggles could see them. 

Except Loki wouldn't tell on him, of course he wouldn't, and he knew Thor knew it. You didn't _tell_ , not unless you wanted to make sure your older brother never spoke to you again _ever_. When Thor was in the mood, when nobody else was around, he could be really nice. Sometimes he even acted like he was proud of the amount of magic Loki let go when he was scared or startled. If Loki tattled on Thor, that would be the end of Thor letting Loki hang around him when none of his real friends were around. 

Thor and Loki's dad was much older than most people's, and the family's holiday home was in a little enclave mostly occupied by elderly witches and wizards. There were no other kids except the little gang Thor had befriended here ages ago, who came to visit their grandparents and who were all with him at Hogwarts. The youngest of them, Sif and Fandral, would be third-years, Volstagg in fifth, and Thor and Hogun in the middle in fourth year. All of them were in Gryffindor. It didn't matter about their ages, they had banded together all that time ago because they were close _enough_. Loki wasn't close _enough_ , and anyway, you weren't really a gang unless there were people who _weren't_ part of the gang, who you could look down on as outsiders. 

Loki understood that, he just didn't want the outsider to be _him._ He was tired of it always being _him_. At home in London, where he went to school, there were no wizard children, and of course he couldn't invite Muggle classmates to visit, in case he gave something away about the wizarding world. The kids in his class really were nice, nobody was mean to him, but if you never invited them over in return, they stopped asking you to their homes, and after a while you just played by yourself or read during breaks, and pretended you didn't mind. Loki knew his teachers had spoken to his parents about this, but Mum and Dad had explained he was like that, solitary, and after a while they had left him alone. 

_It would be different when he was at Hogwarts,_ Loki chanted in his mind. When he was at Hogwarts, the other students would be witches and wizards too, and he wouldn't have to worry about giving anything away. There would be a whole year's worth of kids his age, and _someone_ would want to be friends with him. They _had to_ want to be friends with him-- Loki resolutely pushed away the fear that nothing would change, that he would spend the next seven years scuttling alone from class to class, with nobody talking to him, ever. 

He pushed away his other fear, too, that when Thor's Hogwarts letter arrived this summer it would be the only one, that Loki would be left out again and have to go back to Muggle school all alone. That couldn't happen, could it? He had lots of magic, _lots_ of it. Even Thor admitted that. They _had_ to let him come, even if he sometimes did Dark things when he got scared and angry. 

They _had to,_ Loki told himself. He would be allowed into Hogwarts, and he would be Sorted into Gryffindor, he _would,_ because that was where his family was always Sorted, his brother and father and mother and everyone. And then, and then Thor would like him after all, even though he was a lot younger, and Thor's friends would too, because he would _belong,_ and they would let him--

At this point Loki's imaginings broke down, because he really could not picture a circumstance in which Thor would want to spend time with him unless they were the last two kids left at the school. And no matter how hard he tried to picture himself in robes with the Gryffindor crest, the red-and-gold tie and the edging on the collar of his jumper, he was still tormented with--

Green and silver. _Slytherin._ That was where Dark witches and wizards were Sorted, the spiteful kids who used their magic to hurt people when they were angry. Thor hated Slytherin, as well as you could hate a lot of people you hardly knew, because of course he and his friends never talked to Slytherins, never asked them home in the holidays or befriended them. If Loki was Sorted into Slytherin, Thor would never speak to him again, never. His whole family would be ashamed, and they would... they would never...

 _My whole family has always been in Gryffindor,_ Loki insisted to himself, a bit desperately. And it wasn't as if the Dark things he did, the rock throwing and the other nasty little tricks his magic played sometimes when Thor told him to get out and leave him alone-- it wasn't as if he _planned_ those things, or did them on purpose.

But maybe that was the point: maybe it was what your magic did when you couldn't control it that told you whether you were Dark or not. Thor did things to Loki too, sometimes, but that was only on purpose, Thor could decide to do them or not. Maybe the only magic Loki _had_ was Dark. How could he know, since it only showed when Loki was upset and angry? 

Mum said he used to turn on the light in the nursery, Loki consoled himself. He didn't like to be alone at night, and Mum would find the lamp lit when she came to check on him. He had stopped doing it after she put a night-light in the room, but surely there was nothing too terrible about a baby being afraid of the dark? Cowardly, yes, but not evil. 

And at about the same age, Loki vaguely remembered summoning his favourite soft toy, a floppy rhinoceros, when it had been left on the floor instead of put in his cot with him. He had hated-- still hated-- to get out of bed when the room was all dim shadows by the night-light-- there could be _anything_ under the bed, waiting to grab his ankles in its claws. He was a coward, yes, but he had wanted his rhinoceros, wanted it so hard that it flew into his arms, all by itself. 

Surely that meant he could do magic that wasn't bad or evil, Loki told himself. Surely that meant he didn't belong in Slytherin. 

_It certainly means you're not brave enough to be in Gryffindor,_ his mind told him. Loki hushed it, the nasty little voice that told him those things. Then he crawled out from behind the bed to his bookshelf. He found a piece of parchment and some coloured pencils and went back into his hiding place, to try again to draw the beautiful short-eared owl that had arrived in Eeylops Owl Emporium just after the Easter holidays. She was just fledged, all buff and brown mottling, with heavy black markings around her gleaming yellow eyes, just like long eyelashes, the prettiest owl he had ever seen. 

Loki sketched and scratched out and tried again, making up stories to comfort himself. He would get his letter, and he would be allowed to go to Hogwarts. In a week he would be eleven, and maybe his parents would even give him the owl for his birthday-- he had been talking about her for months now, had gone to look at her every time they visited Diagon Alley, then would come home talking about her. He tried to imagine the big traveling cage waiting by his place at the table on his birthday next week, when they were back in London. 

It would not quite come into focus, any more than the picture of himself in Gryffindor robes would-- he wanted it too much, and things he wanted as much as that never seemed to come clear in his mind, he could never quite imagine being allowed to have them. It was like imagining Thor coming to find him in the Gryffindor common room, and proudly telling everyone they were brothers-- he told himself that story, but he could never really see it in his mind...

A big wet drop fell onto the parchment before him. Loki rubbed at it, and then at his eyes, and moved his pencil to a dry spot to begin his drawing again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Notes:** Letters arrive, Loki goes shopping, and eavesdroppers hear no good. (I should ration myself, but since I have the first couple of chapters written I can't resist the impulse to post them!)_
> 
>  
> 
> _**Warnings:** More kid-angst._

Thor didn't tell on Loki. The brothers had very little to say to each other for the rest of their holiday, but luckily nobody noticed except Bindi the house-elf, and she could be trusted not to say anything. Loki spent the rest of their fortnight in Elder Cross drawing, and reading old books that had been in the house since Dad was his age, while Thor went off with his friends. Probably their parents were so glad they weren't actively fighting they wouldn't have said anything if they had noticed something was wrong. 

Loki was grateful to get back to the big terraced house in London a few days later, where it was easier to avoid his brother. After a day or two, Thor seemed to forget what Loki had done, and his silence toward Loki felt like ordinary disregard once again.

He didn't get the owl for his birthday. He was given a book by his parents, a really good one about magical creatures. Thor gave him a set of paints that changed colours according to what you were painting, so he could get the streaks of brown just right on the picture he made of his-- of _the_ \-- short-eared owl. He wasn't surprised, or even _very_ disappointed about not getting the owl. He hadn't asked for her, he had just sort of... _wished._

And anyway, he had been saving his spending money, so maybe he could buy the owl for himself, when he went to get his Hogwarts things. Thor had gotten an owl his first year at Hogwarts, so maybe Loki would be allowed to have one, too, if he paid for her with his own money.

If he got to go to Hogwarts at all. He tried not to think about that. 

Three days after his birthday-- on Wednesday, July eighteenth, at breakfast time-- a big eagle owl landed on the ledge outside the dining room window and tapped on it with its beak. 

"That'll be my Hogwarts letter-- _our_ letters," Thor corrected himself hastily. He excused himself past Bindi, carrying in a tray of sweet rolls, went over to the window, and lifted the bottom half. The owl stepped inside, and Thor unfastened the roll of paper attached to his leg. The owl promptly turned and flew away through the open window. Loki held his breath as Thor closed it and unrolled the message. 

There were two envelopes. Loki was no longer holding his breath, he just couldn't breathe at all, not even a little. Thor looked at the top envelope, held it in his hand as he flipped the second toward Loki, casually, as though nothing wonderful or surprising was happening. It landed face-down next to Loki's plate. 

There was a purple wax seal with a coat of arms on it: a lion, an eagle, a serpent and a badger, all poised around a letter _H._

Loki made himself inhale a little through his nose, and then he turned over the letter. It was addressed to himself, in emerald ink. It was his, really his. 

Surely Hogwarts never sent letters to anyone to tell them that they _couldn't_ come? 

Thor had ripped his letter open, was already reading a list out loud to their parents, talking about the books and other supplies he would need for this year. Loki wiped his butter knife and used it to ease open the wax seal-- it cracked anyway, right across the lion-- and then with clammy hands he pulled open the flap and drew out the letter. 

_Dear Mr. (Loki) Odinson,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..._

Loki put the letter down on the table, and finally took a real breath. 

~oOo~

On Saturday, Mum was going to take them to Diagon Alley to buy their supplies for the year. They had the Floo powder and were just about to step into the drawing-room fireplace when Mum's pocket watch let out a chime. As she pulled it out to look at it, the hands moved to stand at _St. Mungo's_ , the name of the magical hospital where she was a senior healer, to show that she was needed there immediately. 

"Oh, drat," she muttered, looking at the watch. "Boys, I'll have to-- "

"Of course," Loki said quickly, to show he wasn't disappointed. Of course Mum had to go if she was needed. It was just... he had been imagining them all at Diagon Alley together, Mum and Thor and himself, walking around the shops, and choosing his things, and _talking--_

"I can look after him," Thor spoke up, and Loki looked at him in disbelieving pleasure. "You go ahead. We'll be fine."

Mum looked relieved. "Thank you, Thor, that would be lovely. Just ask for the things to be billed to your father and delivered here. And have a wonderful day." She had started to step into the fireplace when Loki remembered. 

"Mum, can I buy an owl? Please?" He had wanted to show her _his_ owl, so Mum could see how pretty she was, and _then_ tell her he had the money all saved and ask if he could buy her. He couldn't buy something as important as an owl without asking permission first. 

"Oh, Loki-- we'll ask your father if you can have Archimedes, all right?" she replied distractedly. Archimedes was the tawny owl who still sometimes carried letters to their oldest family friends. He was older than Loki and quite shabby, had taken Loki's letter back to Hogwarts accepting his place, and then slept for two days on his return to London. He wasn't anything like as beautiful as Loki's-- as _the_ short-eared owl-- but Loki swallowed his disappointment, reminding himself that he and Archimedes at least knew and liked each other already. 

"St. Mungo's!" Mum said loudly, casting down a handful of Floo powder, and vanished in a flash of green. 

"Come on, then," Thor urged. "Got your list and everything?"

"Yes," Loki said. It was a bit crumpled from being under his pillow the last two nights, but it was in his pocket all right. He beamed at Thor, excited at the prospect of a morning with his big brother, just the two of them. 

"Okay, then. Follow me," Thor said, and stepped into the fireplace. 

Loki tumbled out of the fireplace in Flourish and Blott's bookshop, right behind Thor, but his brother wasn't waiting for him. Instead, Thor was across the store talking to Fandral and Sif. They glanced up when Loki emerged, then went back to their conversation as Loki came sidling over. Loki waited for a minute or two, while his brother and his friends talked about Gryffindor's Quidditch team and whether Sif would try out this year. Finally, Loki spoke up. 

"Thor? Can you help me with my books?" He hated the little bleat in his voice, but not as much as he hated the annoyed looks that crossed Sif and Fandral's faces at the sight of him. 

Thor looked impatient. "You have the list. All you have to do is go pick them off the shelf and take them to the counter. You can do that by yourself, surely?"

"Okay," Loki said uncertainly. "And then after, we can go around to the other shops together-- ?" 

"You don't need me-- you know where to get everything," Thor pointed out. 

"But you told Mum-- " Loki began, heart sinking. 

_"But you told Mum-- "_ Fandral sing-songed. 

"Oh, come on," Sif said sharply. "You're not a _baby_ , are you?"

"No," Loki defended himself, voice shaky. He looked at Thor, suddenly realizing what was behind his brother's generous offer. "You wanted to meet them all along, didn't you?" 

"What does it _matter?"_ Thor snapped. "You want to get your stuff, right?"

"And then you can go moon over your owl," Sif snickered. Loki winced, glancing at his brother, who refused to meet his eyes. His parents hadn't paid any attention to his talk about the short-eared owl, but apparently Thor had, and he and his friends had been _laughing_ at him.

"But we can have lunch together, right?" Loki asked, trying not to beg. "After we get all our things. At the Leaky Cauldron?" 

"Sure, of course," Thor said dismissively, and turned back to his friends. Loki slunk away to the shelves to find his set textbooks. 

It wasn't so bad, after he left Flourish and Blott's, once he was out of sight of Thor and his friends. He walked down the street with his list clutched in his hand, planning what to look for next and watching the shoppers passing by. 

The street was incredibly crowded, even for Saturday. Of course, all the Hogwarts letters must have gone out this week, and everyone was here to find their school supplies. Loki had come along last year, when Thor bought his things for third year-- Thor's first and second year he'd gone alone with first Dad and then Mum, a special day out-- and he recognized the Muggle-born first years by their expressions of bewilderment and fascination, the parents as wide-eyed as the children. 

He paid special attention to these thrilled-looking families, the ones who had obviously never seen Diagon Alley before, and to anyone else the right age to be first-years. He peeked at them hungrily out of the corners of his eyes, trying not to be caught staring. In a few weeks these would be his classmates. Some of them would be his housemates ( _in Gryffindor,_ he told himself stubbornly.) And surely-- surely at least one or two of them would want to be his friends?

He watched with envy as a couple of boys his age-- one with a mess of black curls nearly as dark as Loki's own hair, the other fair with a snub nose and glasses-- went chattering past carrying packages. A tall dark-haired wizard hailed them from outside Quality Quidditch Supplies and the boys ran over to join him, looking at the newest racing broomsticks displayed in the window. 

Knowing his brother and his friends were probably in that very shop-- Thor had been a Beater on the Gryffindor team for the last two years, and was promised a new broomstick for his fourteenth birthday in August-- Loki changed directions and went into Madam Malkin's, to be measured for his school robes. 

After his robes were ordered, Loki stopped in the street to consult his list again. The cauldron was easy: pewter, standard size 2. Potage's was selling so many today the witch behind the counter just called to him, "First year, dear?" and reached down the correct item almost without looking at it. 

The scales, phials, and telescope offered a little more choice: the scales had to be brass, but there were several kinds, and Loki found himself worrying that he would choose the wrong one. He was dithering, and wishing Thor was there to advise him, when a tall blond boy, fifth-year at least, probably sixth, leaned over and indicated a set. 

"That's what I've got," he said. "Bought them in first year and I've never needed to replace them, they've been fine for all my work so far."

"Good thing, too," said a short dark-haired boy about the same age as the blond. "You being such a thrifty bloke."

 _"Tight,"_ said the blond boy. "The word you're looking for is _tight._ And sentimental-- why would I ever replace a nice faithful set of scales if I didn't have to?" 

The short boy laughed and turned back to examine a set of silver scales. The blond smiled at Loki and went to join him. Loki picked up the scales the older boy had recommended and carried them to the counter. 

Potion phials were easy, of course. You could have crystal or glass, and there was little difference between them except that crystal was fancier and more expensive. Loki had already decided he would have plain glass, so he was picking up a boxed set when he noticed a girl about his age studying the phials with the same concentration he had the scales. 

"Do you think crystal is worth the extra money?" she asked, giving him a friendly look. 

"Um?" Loki said, startled, and then blushed. The girl didn't seem to notice his awkwardness, and went back to concentrating on the displayed phials. Loki pretended to look at them as well, but he was paying more attention to the girl, who had dark skin and curly, nearly-black hair. She was, he thought, probably the prettiest girl he had ever seen, prettier even than Bronwyn from the Muggle school, whose pale blue eyes and thick black eyelashes reminded him of the short-eared owl. This girl had long black eyelashes, too, surrounding brown eyes nearly as dark as her hair, and she looked at Loki as if his opinion really interested her.

"The crystal ones are so beautiful," she said. "But it's probably a waste of money-- "

Her voice trailed off. Loki thought she should have the crystal phials if she wanted them-- it was suddenly terribly important to him, that she have exactly the ones she wanted. 

"Well," he said, "they're heavier than the glass ones, aren't they?"

The girl cut a glance at him. "Yes, I guess so."

"And that means they won't break as easily," Loki went on quickly, the justification building itself in his mind as he spoke. "I'll probably have to replace these glass phials at least once-- " he probably wouldn't, actually, Loki was extremely careful with his possessions-- "but if you buy those you'll have them all seven years, most likely. So you really won't end up spending any more on phials than I will." 

The girl smiled at him. "That's right! And anyway, if I pay the difference myself, it won't even matter, will it?"

"Yes, exactly," Loki said, smiling back and feeling even more awkward. The girl picked up a box of crystal phials. 

"I'm Annie," she said matter-of-factly. "You're in first year, too?"

"Yes," Loki replied. "I'm Loki."

"Hi, Loki. Are your parents here with you?"

"No. Um. My brother-- " Loki glanced around helplessly. 

"I'm here with my sister," Annie said. "Our parents had to work today. She went to get Owl Treats, and then we're going to buy my wand next. Do you have yours?" Loki shook his head, and Annie said, "Why don't you come with us? I'm so excited to have my own wand, aren't you?"

"Yes," Loki replied, but it was not really the prospect of a wand that made his heart beat a little faster as he followed Annie out the door. 

Annie's sister, Becky, was in fifth year and a new prefect. As such, she took a conscientious interest in Loki shopping all alone, and seemed quite happy to let him come along to Ollivander's wand shop with them. 

Loki had never been inside Ollivander's before this, since the proprietor did not encourage browsing by those who were not yet candidates for a wand of their own. The spindly customer's chair in the front blinked into three as Loki and the sisters walked in, and they all sat down to wait for Mr. Ollivander to come help them. 

The first wand Annie touched-- pear wood and unicorn hair, nine and a half inches, flexible-- cast a sparkle of gold through the dusty air of the shop, and Becky let out a cheer. Loki wondered if Annie would be disappointed at not getting to try any other wands, but it was obvious from her expression that she hardly even wanted to give this wand back long enough to pay for it and have it wrapped. 

"Pear responds well to the warm-hearted and generous," said Mr. Ollivander, and his eerie silver eyes were almost warm, too, as he looked at Annie. Becky cast a proud glance at her blushing little sister and then, even though their business was done, both girls waited for Loki to try his first wand.

The first attempt, a blackthorn wand with dragon heartstring, was silent in Loki's hand, as was the second, chestnut and also with dragon heartstring. 

"Hmm," Mr. Ollivander murmured. He looked around among the stacked boxes, his right hand ghosting over them without touching until he found the one he sought. "Try this one: dogwood and unicorn hair, nine and a quarter inches, whippy." He opened the box and extended it to Loki. 

As his fingers closed around the dogwood wand, Loki felt warmth and a sort of tingling sensation through his hand and wrist. He raised the wand and golden light sparkled through the shop. Annie let out an "ooh," and Loki gently moved the wand from side to side, watching the sparkling light. Then it went quietly out, but he could feel the wand like a living thing in his hand. 

"Very good," said Mr. Ollivander, and Loki surrendered the wand to be boxed and wrapped. Then he and the sisters left the shop, Annie clutching the box with her wand in both hands, Loki feeling a little bereft at having to leave his behind, to be delivered as Mum had instructed.

Annie and her sister were finished with their shopping and ready to go home. Annie enthusiastically promised to look for Loki on the train platform, and then they hurried away. Loki remembered he had not bought his telescope yet, so he asked advice of the witch in the shop and chose a collapsible brass one that could be mounted or held in your hand. After that he drifted into Eeylops for a little while, yearning over his-- _the_ \-- owl. 

Then he went back to the Leaky Cauldron to wait for Thor. 

Twenty minutes later he was still waiting, and by now very hungry, when Tom the barman spotted him and came over. 

"Are you still here?" he asked in surprise. 

Loki blinked. "Yes. I'm meeting my brother. I've finished my shopping, and we're going to have lunch together."

Tom looked embarrassed. "Well, he didn't say anything about that when he spoke to me. His friend Fandral asked him for lunch. He said you'd get along home on your own, and he asked me to tell you if I saw you. I'm sorry I didn't notice you sooner."

"Oh," Loki said, feeling humiliated and stupid. "I must have got mixed up-- Thank you," he said, with all the dignity he could muster past a sudden lump in his throat. "I'll just be-- "

"Do you want to order something to eat?" Tom asked, all sympathy. Loki shook his head. 

"Not hungry, thanks," he managed, which was suddenly true, and fled.

~oOo~

Loki tumbled out the drawing-room fireplace at home, grateful the house would be as good as empty. Mum would be at St. Mungo's for hours yet. Bindi the house-elf was probably in her own little parlour in an upstairs crawlspace, since none of the family was expected for lunch-- as a free elf she was of course entitled to her own free time to spend as she wished, just like her wages.

Loki knew the story by heart, how Dad had sat her down when he inherited the house, explained that wizards taking advantage of other magical creatures was a bad thing for everyone, and offered her a proper job in the house and a pink knitted cardigan. Bindi had taken some time to get used to the idea, but thirty years later she was proud as proud to be _employed_ , to have set work hours and her very own money-- some of which she spent on her very own television license. She liked to watch Muggle sports and try to guess their rules, sometimes inviting Loki, who could fit into her crawlspace, to join her. They had quickly figured out show-jumping, which they now watched as often as possible because of the horses, but cricket still had both of them flummoxed. Every Christmas Bindi would bake a special batch of shortbread for the family, by hand like a Muggle, and the family would give her another knitted cardigan or bobble hat.

Loki loved Bindi as much as he probably loved anyone, but he did not want to see her right now.

Thor would be back in time to pretend he had spent the whole morning with his little brother, Loki thought bitterly. And Dad had probably gone to the Ministry, as he often did on Saturdays when the family was occupied. Loki would be able to get to his own room without being seen, and right now that was all he thought he could ask for.

He was on the first-floor landing when he heard his father's voice through his open study door. 

"I certainly see no reason to indulge any of this pure-blood nonsense," Dad was saying, in the gruff voice that meant his patience was nearly at an end. "There's no need to pass any legislation at all to protect our interests, and plenty of reason not to."

"I agree," said a second voice, one Loki recognized as belonging to Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic. Mr. Shacklebolt was a lot younger than Dad, which might have created problems for some senior wizards. Not Dad: he said now that he was getting close to retirement, it was time for more energetic witches and wizards to take their places. Always providing, of course, they met Dad's standards of good sense and competence, which Mr. Shacklebolt did. 

The Minister went on, "I'll appreciate your speaking up on that point, in the session this week."

"Of course I will," Dad agreed at once. "Apparently we're cursed to go through this folly every ten years or so. At least this time there's no heir to Voldemort lurking in the wings-- just the usual gang of the privileged, making the usual noises."

Loki actually grinned to himself: Dad would be the first to admit he was himself one of those _privileged_ wizards, with his pure-blood lineage and inherited wealth. The point, he would argue, was that none of it should entitle him or his to more rights than any Muggle-born. And look at the accomplishments of those very same Muggle-borns, and half-bloods too. Look at Potter and Granger, two of the young high-flyers at the Ministry, who had taken on Voldemort when they were only schoolkids. Loki reckoned Dad would have loved to have either of them as his son or daughter, although of course if they'd been his and Mum's they'd have been pure-blood and would no longer serve as examples of the good kick the wizarding world needed. He could just see his father's chin set in that stubborn line Thor had inherited, as he spoke about "pure-blood nonsense." 

Loki was about to run softly up the stairs to his room when he heard Dad's voice again:

"-- as unpleasant as it is to admit, every significant instance of Dark activity in the last hundred years has come from pure-bloods, trying to snatch power they think is owed to us by accidents of birth. It's time that pernicious drivel was dragged out into the light and seen for what it is. Makes me ashamed to be pure-blood myself when I hear it, or see what they get up to. 

"Like the Campbell-Hardwickes, for instance-- " the name was unfamiliar to Loki, but from the way it rolled off Dad's tongue it was clear he and Mr. Shacklebolt both knew it very well. Dad's voice dropped and went unintelligible for a minute, and Loki got three steps above the landing before he heard Mr. Shacklebolt say quite clearly,

" -- in Azkaban where they belong, of course, but at least you were able to adopt the boy." 

Loki froze. The Minister for Magic's voice went on, 

"And how is Loki-- starting at Hogwarts this September, isn't he?"

"Yes," Dad said. "He'll do well, I'm sure-- a very bright lad. His mother and I worry, of course-- "

Loki didn't wait to hear any more, he bolted silently up the stairs and along the hall to his room, where he closed the door as softly as he could manage, then flung himself into the corner where the bed concealed him from the door. 

_Adopted._ Not really theirs at all. _Adopted._

And that wasn't even the worst of it. Lots of people were adopted. It wasn't supposed to matter, Loki knew that. Only it _did_ , because nobody had _told_ him. Why hadn't they _told_ him?

They hadn't told him because his parents-- his _real_ parents-- were Dark sorcerers. His _real_ parents were evil, were locked up in Azkaban where they belonged, and he--

He had been taken in by Odin Odinson, a powerful Auror. A wizard who knew what was right and did it, whether it was freeing a house elf or standing up against pure-blood demands for more power.

Or handing over an evil young sorcerer when he finally showed his true colours. 

He had called Loki a bright lad, but it took little intelligence to figure out what all this meant: his father had adopted him so that nobody else would have to, no one would have to take in a boy who could turn Dark at any moment. They couldn't put a baby in Azkaban with its parents, so his father had obviously convinced his mother to take the risk and keep him themselves, so they could watch him. Watch him and, if he showed signs of turning evil--

Loki clamped his hands over his mouth to stifle the wail trying to come out. He felt sick to his stomach, and hot and cold all over. Suppose Thor _had_ told on him, at the holiday house? Suppose Thor had let on that Loki had made all those rocks fly at him and his friends? Dad would do what he had to, that was why he had taken Loki in the first place, to protect everyone from him if Loki went bad. 

What did they do with underage wizards who showed themselves to be Dark? Did they go to Azkaban, too? Would he end up in a cell beside his evil parents, those Campbell-Hardwickes he had never heard of before? 

And even though Thor hadn't told, his parents were already alert that he might go wrong. _His mother and I worry, of course--_ Of course they did, a child born bad, living in the same house as their own son. How they could risk it--

Loki still felt sick, but in the bottom of his heart he was grateful, too. They had given him a chance. They _hadn't_ just locked him up with his parents. And he _wouldn't_ go bad, he _wouldn't._ He would--

Loki's eyes fell on the floppy rhinoceros sitting on his bookshelf, the letter from Hogwarts propped in its forelegs where he had put it. In a few weeks he would go to Hogwarts, and be Sorted. 

_Slytherin._ He wouldn't be able to pretend anymore, when the Hat put him in Slytherin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who is interested, here is [_asio flammeous_ , the short-eared owl](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-twHJfl1bFv4/TtQlrAktg2I/AAAAAAAAADk/71PN5ceeaLI/s1600/Short-eared+Owl+8386s.jpg).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** Last of the pre-written chapters-- in which things get a great deal worse before they can get better. Also, as promised to some readers, more about owls. 
> 
> **Warnings:** There are people who, when they are angry at themselves, may appear to be angry at someone else. This may apply to some of the people in Loki's life. This is not to say that anyone in this chapter is handling things very well, and that includes Loki.

The next few weeks were the worst of Loki's life. All his excitement about Hogwarts turned into dread, the conviction that he would be revealed as evil, as Dark, as just like his parents. He would think about Annie's friendliness and feel sick, because if she knew what he was she would _never_ want to be his friend. Finally, he knew why he didn't _have_ friends: because he didn't deserve any. 

For the rest of July, and the first part of August, he hardly slept at all. It became nearly impossible to make himself get out of bed in the mornings. Thor teased him for being lazy, but it was hard to be bright in the morning when you had lain awake most of the night before, staring at the ceiling and jumping at shadows and worrying about everything. 

Sometimes he did fall asleep, and that was even worse: he would dream of the Sorting Hat shrieking, _"Slytherin!"_ and his brother and father and mother, and Annie and the blond boy and the short one from the shop, and everyone, turning their backs on him. And then the Slytherins would say they didn't want him either, and he would be left alone in the middle of the Great Hall, with the Sorting Hat jeering on his head and everybody laughing at him. 

Other times, he dreamed that he had done something else evil, without meaning to, and he was being dragged away to Azkaban. He would struggle, and cry, and beg for another chance, but Mum would look sad and shake her head, and Dad would be unyielding. Thor's friends would be there, too, sneering that they knew it all along. 

Those dreams always ended with Loki cringing in the corner of a dark cell, and then in the blackness there would be voices, rusty with disuse, saying, _"We have been waiting for you to come to us, our own son. We always knew you would."_

Loki would jerk awake, wringing wet with sweat and tears, usually with his fist or his pillow stuffed into his mouth to muffle his screams. 

After a while he just sat up at night until the window got light, stiff with terror of what might be in the room with him, but far more afraid to go to sleep. As soon as the sky was light he would lie down and try to sleep for a little while before someone called him for breakfast. In the afternoons he would pretend he wanted to read his new schoolbooks, but he was really hiding in his room trying to sleep while it was light. He had never liked the shadows in his room at night, but now he was as afraid of the dark as he had been as a baby.

He didn't touch the new schoolbooks at all, not for weeks. The books, and supplies, and the wand-- all of them were piled on the writing surface of his desk, and he tried not to look at them for fear of having the Slytherin dream again. 

Loki thought at first he would go mad, but it turned out it was impossible to live at such a pitch of terror and apprehension forever. By the middle of August, when Thor had his fourteenth birthday, Loki was almost used to the weight of fear in his belly, and he was so tired he was beginning to fall asleep again at night, sometimes without dreaming at all. 

Mum took him to Diagon Alley, just the two of them, to find a birthday present for Thor. Once, not very long ago, Loki would have tried to take advantage of that. He would have tried to talk to her about his worries, and ask her to reassure him that everything really would be all right at Hogwarts. Now he knew there was nothing anyone could do, and anyway you didn't need to know very much about Dark magic to know selfishness was a big part of it. He was very careful to talk and think only about Thor's present and Thor's birthday. 

Loki remembered the beautiful magic paint set his brother had given him for his birthday. He wanted to show his gratitude with a set of Puddlemere United robes, this being Thor's favourite Quidditch team, except he didn't have enough money. He had counted up all his savings and was trying to choose something that cost only that much, but Mum stopped him. 

"You don't have to spend every Knut you have on your brother's gift," she said, looking worried. "Here, look, it's a diary with a picture of a Puddlemere United player on every page. He can keep track of his schoolwork if he wants, or his Quidditch training and results. I'm sure he'll like it."

Loki looked at the Quidditch players zooming around on the pages, and wavered.

"But those paints-- " he protested.

"-- Cost less than a Galleon for the set. Ten Sickles, I think it was. It was a lovely gift, but it wasn't an expensive one." Loki felt deflated-- no matter how hard he tried, he still got it all _wrong_ \-- and Mum looked worried again. "All right. Since we're here, is there anywhere you'd like to go? Anything you'd like to look at, or buy for yourself?" 

Loki desperately wanted to ask his mother to come to Eeylops to see if his-- if _the_ \-- short-eared owl was still there, but luckily he recognized the trap before he could fall into it. He pushed away the flare of selfishness and shook his head. 

Anyway, an owl as beautiful as that must have been bought by now. He tried to hope she had been, that someone nice had bought her and she had the kind of owner she deserved. 

He also refused his mother's offer of an ice cream-- it wasn't fair, if Thor wasn't here to have one too, and he had to be very careful to be _fair_ \-- and finally she did some shopping of her own, Loki following along to carry parcels, and they came home again. 

Thor had a wonderful birthday. All his best friends came for the day, and he got the broomstick he wanted so much, the newest model Lightning Bolt. Loki was glad for him. He didn't get in the way during Thor's party-- he went straight to his room when the guests started to arrive, and didn't come out until Dad cast a concealing spell on the garden and took Thor and his friends out to try the new broomstick. 

Loki crept down to the kitchen then, to eat a slice of cake, but went right back to his room afterward and watched the fun through the window. Just before bedtime, Thor came to thank him for the diary, and tell Loki he had packed it in his school trunk, to take to Hogwarts on the first of September.

In spite of himself, Loki started to hope again as the weeks wound down. He was being _good_ this summer, good as _anything_. He didn't fight with Thor at all. He helped Bindi in the kitchen and with the housework any way he could. He obeyed his parents without hesitation or question. He did everything he could think of to _not_ be Dark after all. He didn't let himself hope for friends at Hogwarts anymore, not yet, but if he was as good as he knew how, maybe _someday_ \--

Once, and only once, he found himself at his father's study door, in his pajamas, ready for bed. 

"Dad?" he asked, his voice breathy and scared. Dad looked up, mind obviously still on the papers he was reading for work. Loki forced the words out. "Dad, what if I-- what if they put me-- ?"

"What if they _what_ , Loki?" Dad snapped when Loki paused, not doing a very good job of hiding his impatience. 

"Nothing," Loki mumbled. "Goodnight, Dad."

He didn't sleep at all that night. 

Dad never mentioned Archimedes, and Loki didn't like to ask about him. Loki never liked to _ask_ , it always felt like… giving someone a weapon. So he waited for Dad to offer. He waited and waited. 

And then it was the last night of August, and they were going to the train the next day. Thor had brought out the cage his own barn owl, Solomon, would travel in to Hogwarts. Loki gathered up his courage and finally asked, 

"Dad, Mum said you'd let me take Archimedes with me, to Hogwarts. Can I?"

His mother looked startled, and Loki realized she had never thought of her offer again, had never spoken to Dad after all. She hadn't meant it, it had just been a way of saying "no" without really having to say it. 

Loki knew it, but he clung to the idea a little longer. "Please, Dad. I'll take good care of him."

Dad sighed, with the impatient look that said Loki was being unreasonable. "Loki, he's an old owl. He wouldn't like to go live in a strange place."

Loki had been good all summer, had behaved himself and hidden his fears and caused no trouble at all for anyone. But this disappointment was somehow the last straw. All the tears he had choked down through all the summer days started to rise in his eyes and his throat. 

"But Mum said-- " he started to protest. 

"I said we'd _ask_ ," Mum pointed out, although there had been no "we," she had just hoped Loki would forget about it. 

"And anyway, you don't have anyone to write to except Mum and Dad, and you can send your letters with mine," Thor said reasonably. He wasn't being unkind, it was _true_ , but that wasn't the _point._

"But I wanted… I just… I wanted-- " Saying you _wanted_ was also giving the other person a weapon to use against you, but Loki couldn't seem to stop himself. "If you had just told me you wouldn't let me have an owl, I could have gotten a cat." Now that it was too late, Loki thought with sudden, piercing longing of a fluffy purring cat, curled up next to him in his bed in the cold Slytherin dormitory. "I just wanted… something to be friends with me."

"Loki, when you're at school you'll make lots of friends," Mum said in her rich warm voice, lying and _lying_ as if he was _stupid_ , as if he didn't _know_ better. Loki stared at her, and then he completely lost control, all the tiredness and fear rushing out so he couldn't pretend any longer. He heard himself almost shrieking, 

"I _won't._ I _won't_ , I _can't_ , I _don't know how_. Nobody _likes_ me, nobody _ever_ likes me, and nobody ever _will_. I'm _always_ … they _always_ \-- "

And then he was wailing in grief and exhaustion, like a _baby_ , blinded with tears. He turned and bolted out of the room, stumbling up the two flights of stairs to his bedroom, where he threw himself into the corner behind the bed and curled in on himself, sobbing. 

He stayed in his room for the rest of the night. After a long time he crawled out of his hiding place, put on his pajamas, and climbed into bed, hiccupping and sometimes going into a fresh spate of weeping. He was alone, except for the floppy rhinoceros he dragged under the covers with him. Once he thought he heard someone outside the door, but nobody knocked or called to him. 

_Ruined_ , he thought, his eyes raw and his head aching. _I've ruined everything._ His parents would know now their task was impossible, that a boy who acted like this was hopeless. He hadn't done anything evil, not really, but he knew he had been ungrateful. His parents would be happy to send him away to school tomorrow and not have to deal with him anymore. Thor would be glad when he was assigned to Slytherin, it would give him a good reason to disavow Loki as his brother. Maybe they'd leave him at school over the Christmas holidays…

That night was longer than any of the others that summer, but finally it was morning, and Loki had to face his family one last time. He got dressed, took a moment to stuff his rhinoceros into a corner of his trunk-- he had intended to leave his toy behind, but at the last minute he just couldn't face the year all alone after all-- then washed up to go downstairs for breakfast. 

A glance in the bathroom mirror horrified him. His eyes were all puffy and red and his face was swollen like he had some awful disease. Cold water only helped a little. Loki finally slipped into the dining room and into his place at the table, hoping to somehow not be noticed. With his parents and brother right there it was a faint hope at best, and he felt the weight of his father's one-eyed regard like a heavy hand on the back of his neck. Loki bent over his plate of eggs and toast and tried to make himself eat. 

It wasn't a very good effort, and he gave up pretty quickly. Thor and Mum bravely made small talk, glancing at the clock to see how long they had before the train to Hogwarts left at eleven. 

And then Dad suddenly stood up. 

"Is your trunk packed?" he asked abruptly. Loki nodded mutely. Dad gestured to him to stand. "Your brother says you've been wanting an owl-- "

"Dad, he's talked about practically nothing _else_ all summer," Thor said impatiently, and Loki winced. But it was sounding like maybe his father would relent and let him take Archimedes after all. 

Instead, his father just said, "Get your jacket, then. And hurry, the train leaves at eleven." Loki gaped at his father, who ignored him and turned to Mum. "Can you manage both trunks? Good. We'll meet you on the platform." Without a further glance at Loki, he swept from the dining room. 

Bindi met Loki in the entry hall, holding his jacket. There was a chinking sound as he pulled it on-- his money purse was already in the pocket, where he'd put it to be handy. Loki hugged the elf goodbye, and then ran after his father. 

"Dad?" Loki said, hesitantly, as he caught up to his father in the doorway. Dad said nothing as he took hold of Loki's arm in a crushing grip. Loki just had time to realize what was going to happen before he had the feeling of being squashed and wrung out as his father Apparated, with Loki dragged along behind him.

They landed in a street, Loki blinking and gasping and very glad he hadn't eaten much breakfast, and it took him a moment to recognize Diagon Alley. The street wasn't crowded this early in the day, but there were a few shoppers hurrying about, making last-minute purchases before departing for King's Cross Station and the Hogwarts Express.

"All right," Dad said, still in a tone that sounded as if Loki was about to be punished, "Eeylops is just opening. Hurry up." And he walked away, grim-faced, with Loki scurrying along behind him. 

A bell over the door rang as they entered, and Mr. Cadwallader, the wizard who ran the shop, looked up in mild surprise at such early customers. 

"My son wants an owl," Dad said abruptly, in a rude way he never _ever_ used when asking assistance in a shop. His one sharp eye was already roving over the cages, hurrying, and Loki realized sickly that Dad wasn't even going to ask him if there was a particular owl he _wanted._ Not that his-- that _the_ \-- beautiful short-ear would still be here, but--

Mr. Cadwallader smiled, looking pleased. "Finally come for her, have you?" he addressed Loki, and turned toward the darkness at the back of the shop. 

_"Her?"_ Dad asked sharply. Loki tried to make himself as small as possible, but Mr. Cadwallader wasn't bothered by Dad's tone. He picked up a traveling cage and went over to the big flying cage at the back, where the shop kept owls off display when they were moulting. The wire door rattled, there was a fluttering sound, and a minute later he turned back with the traveling cage in his hand. 

Setting it on the counter, the shop wizard said, "Your young man's been coming to visit her all summer. I was hoping he'd be back with his money before school started, so I took her off display, like, to give him a chance. Nice owls, short-ears. Big enough to carry most kinds of post, but not too big for a kid to manage. This one's got a lovely disposition." 

Loki couldn't speak, just stared at the cage where the mottled owl sat on her perch, studying him out of brilliant yellow eyes surrounded by jet-black feathers that contrasted with the buff and white of her facial disc. 

A second later, she had reached forward with one taloned foot and caught the wire side of the cage. She flapped a little so she could step over with the second foot, then hung there picking with her beak as if reaching toward Loki. Loki held out a hesitant finger, still unable to believe what was happening, and she gently nibbled it with her beak.

"She's been looking for you," Mr. Cadwallader said kindly. "Knows you already, she does. That'll be ten Galleons for the owl, and three for the cage."

Loki glanced sideways at his father's unyielding face, seeing no sign that he was impressed by how beautiful the owl was, or interested in the idea she already knew and liked Loki. The sick feeling in his stomach got worse: Dad hadn't wanted him to have an owl, would never have brought him here at all if Loki hadn't cried and carried on last night. 

If Dad bought his owl, Loki would always know he wasn't really supposed to have her, that she was a grudging gift, and the next time he was bad-- because he _would_ be, as hard as he tried he knew he _would_ be-- Mum and Dad would remind him they had bought him his owl, and he owed them better, and he _knew_ that, but--

Loki reached into his own pocket before Dad could move, pulled out his purse and dumped the contents on the counter, gold and silver and bronze. Loki pushed the Galleons into a pile, eight of them, a lot of treats given up for a long time, and began to count silver Sickles as fast as he could. 

"Loki," Dad said sharply, "I'm going to-- "

"No," Loki said, without looking up, a frantic note in his voice as he pushed the first pile of seventeen Sickles toward the Galleons, "she's _mine_ , I asked Mum if I could buy her myself, I've got-- I've been saving-- "

Mr. Cadwallader said nothing, but he began counting bronze Knuts into another pile as Loki coped with the Sickles. Finally there was a heap of money on the counter, two Sickles and five Knuts left in Loki's purse, and the shop wizard was writing out a bill of sale while the short-eared owl groomed her feathers in the cage. 

"There you are," Mr. Cadwallader said cheerfully, as he scooped the money into the till. "You'll have to think up a good name for-- "

"Bronwyn," Loki said instantly. He had never said it out loud, or even dared think it, that would be bad luck, wanting too much, but now she was his and he could. "Her name is Bronwyn."

"Good name," said the wizard. "Best of luck with her, and your year at Hogwarts." Loki managed a tremulous smile, the kindness almost more than he could bear at the moment, and picked up the cage in his arms. Dad picked up something small from the counter, handed over some money, and then said, 

"We shouldn't Apparate with the owl. Mind if we use your Floo?"

"Not at all," Mr. Cadwallader nodded toward the jar on the mantle. Dad gestured to Loki and said, 

"Platform nine and three-quarters," as if Loki didn't know, hadn't dreamed about it for years. 

A moment later they were both on the platform, and the scarlet Hogwarts Express was puffing and steaming beside them. Loki looked around for his mother and brother, clutching Bronwyn in her cage, and then remembered and turned to his father. 

"Thank you, Dad. Thank you so much-- "

His father made a dismissive gesture. "You didn't want an old fellow like Archimedes." His father handed him the thing he had bought at the last minute, a packet of Owl Treats, and Loki set the cage down to stuff it in his pocket. Dad looked about to speak again when Thor's friend Volstagg happened along. 

"Loki! Got your owl at last?" the hulking boy called as he walked by dragging his trunk. 

"Does every witch and wizard in London know about this owl except your mother and me?" Dad growled, and Loki shrank again. Dad shook his head and looked down at him. His hands fell heavily on Loki's skinny shoulders, and he looked suddenly hesitant. "Loki. What you said, last night-- "

"I'm sorry," Loki blurted. "I am, I'm sorry, I never should have-- " Dad gave him a little shake, not very hard, and Loki fell silent. 

"You said… Loki, you know we couldn't ask Muggle children to the house, don't you?"

"Of course not," Loki agreed, wide-eyed at the expression on his father's face. "It wouldn't be… they might have-- "

"Yes. Exactly. Secrecy has to be preserved. But Loki, that doesn't mean… it doesn't mean those children wouldn't have _wanted_ to be friends with you, if things were different. It doesn't mean they didn't like you, or your teachers, or-- "

" _Thor_ doesn't like me," Loki whispered, and despite all the crying he had done he still found a few more tears from somewhere. Thor was _all he had,_ and Thor _hated_ him.

"Thor _loves_ you," Dad said firmly. "I admit he probably doesn't always _like_ you at the moment, but that's because he's older than you are, and it makes a difference when you're boys. By the time you're men it won't matter at all." Dad actually got down on one knee to look Loki squarely in the face, hands still on Loki's shoulders. "But right now you're going to Hogwarts, and a lot of children there will want to be friends with you, because you're a good, smart, likable boy. Your mother and I are very proud of you, and we'll be so happy to hear all about what you learn and what you do there. We'll be looking out for… Bronwyn… to come with your letters."

Loki swallowed hard. "But Dad, what if-- What if I don't get into Gryffindor?" It was the closest he could come to saying what he was really afraid of-- he couldn't make himself say _Slytherin._

"Of course you'll be in Gryffindor," Dad said, dismissing the idea, as if he didn't _know._

"No, but _Dad,"_ Loki insisted, with all the courage he had.

His father looked at him for a moment, really paying attention for once, and then said, "Then you'll be somewhere else, and you'll belong there, and you'll do well and be happy." Loki swallowed, still unable to say that word. Dad patted him, then reached into his robes and pulled out a big white handkerchief. "Here. Blow your nose and wipe your eyes, and we'll go find your mother and brother."

"'Kay," Loki whispered, taking the handkerchief. And then Dad's arms were tight around him, and Loki was leaning into his father's shoulder. 

"I love you very much," Dad whispered, into Loki's hair. "And your mother does, too. You're a very good boy, and we love you, and you will be very happy at Hogwarts."

Loki pressed his face into his father's shoulder, clinging, and for the moment almost believed him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** We're going with movie canon here regarding how luggage is dealt with on the Hogwarts Express-- there's a baggage car rather than the kids having to schlep their own trunks. I've therefore included a little detail to deal with the business of changing clothes when your trunk is in a baggage car. Also, Harry and his friends always seemed to arrive on the platform about two minutes before the train was scheduled to depart, so I've decided to uphold the tradition! 
> 
> I'll be playing around with the relative ages of the cast for my own purposes. I apologize if anyone finds this jarring.
> 
> Not a whole lot happens in this chapter, but after the previous angst-fest I thought a little cheer was in order. Which is also why I'm not waiting to post this!
> 
>  **Warnings:** Still with the kid-angst, but at a drastically reduced level. Things are finally beginning to look up for Loki!

By the time they found Thor and Mum, there were only about five minutes before the train was scheduled to leave. Loki went charging up to his mother to claim his trunk and hug her goodbye. He got kissed, too (he was in no state to be embarrassed about that, and anyway it was all right when it was your mother) and Mum told him Bronwyn was just beautiful before she handed over a tin of sandwiches and biscuits from Bindi, and a brown-paper parcel containing the school clothes he would need to change into later. Then she kissed him again and wished him a good term. 

By the time he hugged Dad again and ran for the train, wheeled trunk bumping along behind him, Loki was feeling an awful lot better than he had when he had come downstairs that morning. 

The feeling collapsed as he realized he had outdistanced his parents, lost Thor, and had no idea how to get his trunk onto the train without help. He started to lift Bronwyn up first, then had a truly horrible moment imagining the train pulling away _with_ his owl but _without_ him. He was tugging desperately on the trunk, and beginning to panic, when a voice above him asked, 

"Do you need help?"

Loki looked up, desperate, and a second voice-- this one with a sort of Irish lilt-- said,

"Does he _look_ like he needs help, George?" The speaker brushed past him, jumping down to the platform, and said, "Here, you take your owl, and we'll get the trunk."

The next thing Loki knew, two boys his age were dragging his trunk up the steps and into the carriage, just in time as the train began to move. Loki, catching his breath and feeling his heart beginning to finally slow down, looked at the two boys with wide eyes.

"Thanks," he said, when he could speak.

"Not a problem," said the Irish boy, who had messy black curls and wickedly sparkling dark eyes. His friend was fair, snub-nosed, and wore glasses. They looked familiar, but it took a moment for Loki to remember seeing them in Diagon Alley, that horrible day when he learned the truth about himself. The Irish boy said, "I'm Mitchell, and this is George. Are you in first year, too?"

Loki nodded. "Loki," he said. "And this is Bronwyn," he added, indicating the owl, who seemed agitated by the confusion, if her raised ear tufts were anything to go by.

"Right," said Mitchell. "Hi Bronwyn. Let's see if we can find anyplace to sit. Want me to take your trunk?" George made a sort of noise, like he was trying to get a word in, but he finally led the way down the train, carrying Loki's sandwich tin and everyone's parcels containing their school uniforms. Loki followed along behind carrying Bronwyn, and Mitchell came dragging the wheeled trunk along in the rear.

It was only then that it occurred to Loki-- 

"Wait, where are _your_ trunks?"

George glanced back with an apologetic smile. "Baggage car," he explained. Loki gaped at him, and then felt his face flame. Of course. He had completely forgotten that you were supposed to take your trunk to the rear of the train to be loaded. He _knew_ that, had seen Thor do it last year. George went on, "I wouldn't have known myself, if Mitchell hadn't told me." 

Loki glanced back, and Mitchell shrugged. "As long as you and your stuff's all on the train, what's the difference?"

George was already walking on ahead. Mitchell gestured, and Loki gratefully stumbled along in George's wake. 

Halfway down the train, George let out a happy cry of, "Annie!" and knocked on the glass door of a compartment. Loki, once again hot all over, looked over George's shoulder. 

Annie waved excitedly from inside the compartment, where she was sitting with her older sister. "George! Hi!" she called as George opened the compartment door. "The platform was so crowded, I gave up looking for you!"

Speaking of crowded-- Loki could count. The compartment was intended for four adults, and although he supposed five people could squeeze in if four of them were kids, he didn't think there was room for a trunk and an owl as well. 

George and Mitchell had sidled past Loki and were greeting Annie. It was obvious they knew each other, had probably gone to school together. Loki stood in the passage, his smile going stiff on his face as he wondered what to do. He knew it would be polite to excuse himself and leave them alone, but he couldn't express how much he didn't want to.

And then Annie turned to him. "Hi, Loki, I was looking for you, too. Come in," she invited. 

"I don't think there's-- " Loki mumbled, hating himself for his awkwardness but perfectly aware he and his belongings would just make the space uncomfortable for everyone. 

Becky, who was already in her school robes--her silver prefect badge pinned above a black-and-yellow crest showing the Hufflepuff badger-- smiled at Loki and stood up. She turned to Annie and said, 

"I'm glad you've found some of your friends, Annie, because I really have to go up front to the prefects' carriage. The Head Girl and Boy are supposed to talk to us about our duties." She turned a businesslike eye upon Loki-- or, rather, his trunk. "Hang on a minute, I'll see if I can find-- " She stepped out into the passage, looked over Loki's head down the train, and called, "Oi! Rogers, Stark-- I need your manly muscles!"

"I like the respectful way she speaks to her Head Boy," said a voice behind Loki. "That's really impressive, especially in a brand-new prefect." 

"Definitely the regard you deserve," said a girl, sounding amused. 

Loki turned around. Walking up behind him were the two older boys who had spoken to him about scales, the day in Diagon Alley, and with them was a girl with long reddish-blond hair. Like Becky, all of them were in school uniform with prefects' silver badges. The girl wore the red-and-gold lion crest of Gryffindor, while the tall blond boy was another Hufflepuff. His short, dark-haired friend had a green-and-silver badge with a serpent on it. 

_Slytherin._

"This is Rogers," Becky was saying, indicating the blond boy. "Stark is Head Boy, and Potts Head Girl."

"I won't insist you bow to us," Stark promised, addressing Loki. 

"Stop it, Tony, someone might think you're serious," Potts scolded.

"What, you think I'm not?" Stark protested. " _You_ think I'm serious, right?" he asked Loki, who panicked a little and almost nodded. Rogers poked Stark sharply in the ribs and smiled reassuringly at the three first-years.

Becky ignored Stark's teasing, if it was teasing (on the whole Loki thought it probably was, but he was cautious enough not to declare himself on the subject) and explained the problem:

"Could you take Loki's trunk back to the baggage car for him? Please?" 

It occurred to Loki that whatever duties the Head Boy-- or any prefect-- were normally assigned probably didn't include carrying baggage for first years too stupid to figure out where their trunks belonged. 

Stark, however, just looked at Loki in mild amusement. "Muggle-born, right?" he asked. 

"Tony!" Potts said sharply. 

"What?" Stark retorted. He glanced at Loki. "No offense, kid," he said, and turned back to his friends. "I just meant, half the time whoever's meant to be explaining things to the Muggle families leaves out some crucial piece of information-- which, if you recall, is how I nearly missed the train last year; I was roaming up and down platform nine and three quarters directing Muggle families who hadn't been told what to do." He looked down at Loki again. "Not your fault, obviously." 

To the other prefects he added, "I tell you what, when I'm Minister for Magic, there are going to be some changes made. There'll be a whole under-secretaryship in the Department of Magical Education, devoted to making sure there's a standard, comprehensive briefing for all Muggle-borns and their families, and contacts given them for followup questions they might have before September first."

Loki thought he should probably confess that he _wasn't_ Muggle-born, but since that would mean he was just stupid, he did not quite have the nerve.

"Great idea," Rogers congratulated Stark, still looking amused. "You'll have my vote-- I still remember how confused I was in first year. In the meantime, let's get this trunk where it belongs." He looked down at Loki-- it was a long way down, owing to his height-- and asked, "Do you want us to take your owl, too?"

"Um," Loki began, tightening his grip on Bronwyn's cage.

"It's okay if you want to keep her with you," Potts said quickly. 

Stark added, "Just don't let her out of the cage. For one thing, we're supposed to try to keep the train clean and I don't suppose any of you knows a spell yet for cleaning up owl droppings. For another, you might want to open the window."

"Thank you," Becky said sweetly, as the two older boys picked up the trunk and started toward the back of the train. 

"Yes, yes, right, we'll see you in the prefects' carriage," Stark grumbled.

"Thank you," Loki echoed, remembering his manners. Becky smiled at Loki and waved goodbye to her sister, then she and Potts set off in the other direction, towards the front of the train. Annie scooted sideways on the seat to make room. Loki picked up Bronwyn and practically fell into the compartment. 

He wasn't sure what surprised him more: the welcome he was receiving, or the behaviour of his very first Slytherin. 

~oOo~

Loki's guess turned out to be right: Annie, George and Mitchell had all gone to primary school together, in north London. Loki wasn't quite able to hide his envy at the idea of the three of them having each other to be friend with in Muggle school. It turned out George was actually Muggle-born himself. 

"Mitchell's family lived across the street from mine when we were babies," George explained. "His dad happened to be at the house one day when I made my teddy bear fly. He explained all about wizards to my parents. And then when Voldemort got control of the Ministry, Mitchell's parents helped us, and a lot of Muggle-borns and their families, get out of Britain to Ireland."

"We went, too," Annie said. "My mum's a Muggle, and Dad's a Squib, which as far as the Death Eaters were concerned was just another kind of blood traitor. As if Dad could help not having magic!"

"Mum and Dad and I stayed in Ireland for a while after the war ended," Mitchell finished the story. "We came back to London when I was starting school, back to our old neighbourhood, and we three all went to school together."

"I'm glad I found out about wizards good and early," George said. "I hear some Muggle-borns don't even know about Hogwarts until someone from the Ministry shows up with their letter. I think that'd scare me."

"My Mum goes and talks to Muggle families sometimes," Loki contributed. "She's a healer at St. Mungo's and my Dad works at the Ministry, so sometimes when a baby shows magic really early the Ministry asks her to go explain to the mother that she's not crazy or anything." 

If a child had magic they nearly always showed it by the age of seven, but it was pretty common for it to manifest much earlier, and Mum always said that a nervous new mother usually found it easier to talk to a woman healer than a Ministry official. Loki had met enough of his father's colleagues in his life to see her point. 

Mitchell frowned thoughtfully. "Loki, what's your Mum's name?"

"Frigga Odinson?" Loki somehow turned it into a question. 

"My Dad talks about her sometimes!" Mitchell exclaimed. "He said she could cope up a false birth certificate that would fool anyone-- helped a lot of Muggle-borns dodge the Death Eaters long enough to get out of the country. My Dad said she was wasted as a healer, when she could have had a brilliant career in crime."

Loki joined in the others' laughter, and really, the idea was funny. But it did make him wonder whether his mother had made a false birth certificate for _him,_ after his real parents were taken away to Azkaban. 

Annie went back to the earlier topic: "It must be awfully weird for Muggle parents, when really young kids show magic. My Dad didn't even tell Mum he came from a family of wizards at first, because he thought a Squib couldn't have children with magic, anyway. Gran and Granddad thought the same thing, so they never said a word about being a witch and a wizard. 

"And then one day, when Becky was about a year old, Gran was trying to feed her strained spinach, and the next thing Gran knew the jar and the spoon flew out of her hands and out the window. Happiest moment of her life, Gran said." Annie made a face. "Of course, when I came along she kept time thinking up things to feed me that might make me do the same thing, just to see if I was magic, too. Lucky for me she found me making my toy lamb hop around my cot, and she let the spinach alone."

"I think that's how my brother's magic showed the first time," Loki said, amid the general laughter. "Only it was mashed turnip, and my Dad. Mum got there with the camera before Dad could wipe his beard or Thor's face. She says she's keeping that picture to show at Thor's wedding reception." 

Everyone laughed again, and then George sighed. "It's weird, the things babies can do with magic without meaning to. I wish I knew how I made that teddy bear fly. I can't do it now at all."

"Same here," Annie agreed. "Although I might be able to do _something_ if you tried to make me eat strained spinach." 

They were all still giggling when a gray-haired witch with a dimpling smile came along, pushing a trolley of sweets, and popped the compartment door open. "Anything from the trolley, dears?" 

Loki was not generally allowed to eat sweets in the middle of the day, and it was evident from his companions' expressions that this was probably an unusual experience for them, too. Still, the journey to Hogwarts was a special occasion. Loki probably would have celebrated it with some kind of treat if he hadn't spent practically all his money already today. As it was, he thought he had better save the little he had left in case some sort of emergency cropped up during the term. 

And besides, a few Chocolate Frogs weren't much of a treat compared with your very own owl. As the others stepped into the passage to buy things from the trolley, Loki reached up to the rack above his head to bring down his sandwich tin. 

"Are you not getting anything?" George asked, as he sat down again.

"No," Loki replied. "I spent most of my money on Bronwyn-- " to his gratified surprise, George looked impressed that Loki had bought his own owl-- "and anyway I've probably got enough lunch here to feed the Kenmare Kestrels. Does anyone want a sandwich, or a piece of shortbread?" 

"Sure," Mitchell said. "Trade you for a Chocolate Frog." 

Annie also had sandwiches-- actually, Annie had slices of buttered bread pressed together in pairs, and containers of sliced tomato, cucumber, pickle and cheese to _turn into_ sandwiches, as well as hard-boiled eggs and a bag with a bunch of grapes. 

Loki's sandwiches were roast beef with mustard, and chicken mayonnaise. He also had a bag of apple slices and a wrapped-up package of Bindi's shortbread. Under other circumstances, he might have hoarded that and made it last him until Christmas. As it was, he handed it around first, to make sure the others got to try some before they were too full to appreciate it. 

George and Mitchell had apparently convinced their parents to let them buy their "lunch" on the train, which given the contents of the trolley would have been enough sweets to make anyone sick. Shared around with Loki's and Annie's lunches, it was just enough to make them all a bit giddy-- especially when Annie ate a green Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean and it turned out to be boiled-spinach flavour. 

They were still laughing, and feeding bits of roast beef, chicken, and Owl Treats to Bronwyn, when someone knocked on the compartment door. Outside in the passage were a red-haired girl and a boy in shabby clothes. Mitchell reached over to pull the door open. 

"Hi," he said, in his friendly way. 

"Can we come in?" the girl asked, in a sort of central-European accent that made Loki think of the Durmstrang professor who had come to dinner one time. Even Thor had been too intimidated by him to say much, but this girl certainly wasn't scary. 

"Sure," Mitchell said instantly. George and Loki started making room by bundling wrappers from the sweets and sandwiches into the bag from Annie's lunch, at least until Loki noticed the way the shabby boy was looking at the food. 

"Sandwich?" he offered, holding out the tin. 

The girl had half a sandwich and a Liquorice Wand, but the boy ate practically everything left of the lunches, and Loki thought he might have finished off the Owl Treats too, given a chance. Loki had never seen another child as hungry as that, and he was very glad Bindi had packed him such a ridiculously large lunch. 

The girl's name was Natasha, and the boy's was Clint. Apparently they had been sitting further along the train with Clint's older brother, Barney, at least until Barney had started using his little brother to show off hexes he had learned over the summer. 

"One of the prefects came along and broke it up," Natasha explained. "A tall boy with blond hair."

"A _Hufflepuff,"_ Clint grumbled, as if being rescued by a Hufflepuff was the worst thing about the whole experience. Loki thought probably that Thor would have thought the same thing. 

"And we figured we had better find someplace else to sit," Natasha explained. Loki and his new friends exchanged glances-- Loki was quite sure he wasn't the only one hoping Clint's older brother didn't come looking for him. At the same time, he was glad to think that, as much as he and Thor quarrelled, Thor almost never cast actual hexes on him. 

"Well," said Annie peaceably, "there's plenty of room for you here." 

There actually wasn't _plenty_ of room, but there was enough. Annie got out her watch and established a sort of rota so that they could all take it in turns to sit by the window. Bronwyn, even though short-eared owls were active in the daytime, eventually fluffed her feathers and went to sleep. 

About an hour after this meeting, Loki looked up at another knock on the compartment door. Standing outside in the passageway were Thor, Sif, Hogun, Fandral, and Volstagg. 

He swallowed the impulse to tell Mitchell not to open the door-- which was stupid, of course, there was no lock and they certainly were not going to be able to keep them out. 

"Hi," Thor said, a little awkwardly. 

"Hi," Loki replied, working to keep his voice even. George, Annie, and Mitchell glanced at Loki, and then Mitchell said coolly, 

"Can we help you?" Which was an awfully nervy way for a first-year to speak to an older student before they had even gotten to Hogwarts yet. Probably Mitchell would be Sorted to Gryffindor, Loki thought.

"We just wanted to tell you," said Fandral, "there are a lot of first-years in an open carriage further up the train."

"If you wanted to go meet them," Sif said. 

Loki glanced at Thor, who looked even more awkward. It didn't take much thinking to realize Thor and his friends wanted this compartment. The question was whether there really was a carriage full of first-years, or whether that was a trick. 

Of course, if Thor and his friends really wanted the compartment, they could easily eject Loki's group by force, so on balance it seemed wisest to go quietly. The first-years got up and gathered their belongings. 

"It's the next carriage but one, that way," Thor said, gesturing toward the front of the train. As Loki sidled past him, he added, "That's a really pretty owl."

"Thanks," Loki muttered, and followed Annie, who was following Mitchell. 

"Did you know those kids?" Annie asked quietly, as they walked up the train. 

"Yeah," Loki said. "That was my brother and his friends."

"Oh," said Annie. He wondered if she was thinking about the difference between Loki's brother, who turned up when he wanted the compartment, and her own sister, who made sure she was settled with friends before leaving her. Maybe, Loki thought, that was just the difference between brothers and sisters. 

And then they were passing through the second set of doors into the next carriage but one, and a chorus of voices called out, "First year?"

"Yeah," Mitchell called back. 

"Have a seat," invited a boy with curly dark hair. "We're all trying to guess where the Sorting Hat will put us."

"Nice owl," said a girl with dark hair and blue eyes, and the brown-eyed girl beside her nodded. 

Loki found a seat, put Bronwyn's cage on the floor by the window, and squeezed over so Annie could sit beside him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which Loki really does get somewhere: Hogwarts!
> 
> I've mentioned this story will probably draw from either book or movie canon. I've been going with the school uniform from the movies, with the robes worn over other clothing that also makes up the uniform. Please refer to the movies for your images of all teachers, once we introduce some, in case of differences. However, in the books, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons accepted both boys and girls, and that's what I'm assuming here for an incidental point. I've also picked up some extra information from Pottermore for certain points.
> 
>  **Warnings:** I've mentioned already that this is an AU of an AU. That means that the house assignments discussed in the Housemates series proper may not all apply to this story, and everyone is a human. Also, I know the Loki we met in  Thor was almost certainly a Slytherin, but the Housemates-universe posits that he got that way through not having his emotional needs met, and the Loki in that universe (and so this story) would have needed to be somewhere else entirely as a child. 
> 
> Also, I am simply not up for writing a song for the Sorting Hat. Sorry about that.

Loki figured it probably said something nasty about himself, that he was surprised his brother had told the truth, but he really had not expected to find the gathering of first-years right where Thor had said they would be. He found himself a little overtaken by shyness as they all sat down, but George was quiet, too, and so was the new boy with the curly dark hair. 

Most of the others made up for anyone who was quiet. The blue-eyed girl, whose name was Darcy, was very interested in which houses everyone would be Sorted into.

"What about you?" she asked George. "What house does your family usually end up in?"

"None of them, I'm Muggle-born," George replied. 

"I think I'd like to be in Gryffindor," said the curly-haired boy, whose name was Bruce. 

"Aw, that's what everyone says," Darcy complained. "That's _boring."_ In a mocking sing-song, she said, "'Oh, let's all be in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart.' I'd much rather be in Slytherin. I think it sounds really cool. What about you?" she asked, turning to Loki.

"I don't know," Loki mumbled. "My family always _has_ been in Gryffindor."

"But you don't want to be?" Darcy pounced on his doubtful tone. 

"No, I do," Loki protested truthfully. "I just-- " _It's just that I'm not actually a member of my family, and my real one probably all went in Slytherin._

"You never know what the Sorting Hat is going to make of you," said the brown-eyed girl, Jane, who was Darcy's cousin.

"Well, _my_ family has always been in Hufflepuff," said Annie decidedly. "At least, my sister and my grandparents. And I think it sounds much the nicest, so that's the one I want to be in."

"Oh, come on, Hufflepuff's so _boring_ ," Darcy protested, returning to her favourite word. 

Annie's eyes flashed dangerously. "Boring to _you_ , maybe-- " she began. 

"Stop it, Darcy," Jane said quickly. "She doesn't mean it," she added to Annie. "She's got three older brothers and she just _talks_ like that."

"Sorry," said Darcy, looking genuinely abashed. Annie, who had looked as ruffled as an angry owl, nodded her forgiveness. 

It made perfect sense to Loki, that Annie would want to be in the nicest house, but it had never occurred to him before that people whose families were in houses other than Gryffindor would be every bit as proud of them as Gryffindors like Thor were of theirs. 

"Well," Mitchell spoke up, returning to Darcy's original point, " _I_ don't want to be in Gryffindor. Imagine having to live up to a reputation for _daring, nerve, and chivalry_ all the time."

"Yes," said Annie, "you can get in enough trouble as it is." George giggled, and Mitchell threw the last two Every Flavour Beans at them.

"My family has always gone to Durmstrang," Natasha announced suddenly. "But the school hasn't changed its rule against allowing Muggle-borns to attend, and so my mother and father decided I should come to Hogwarts. They say the world has changed, since the War, and so our minds should change, too." Loki was thinking that Dad would approve of this girl, when she went on, "I would like to be in this Slytherin, I think. Clint and his brother have told me about it, and it sounds a very sensible house."

Of all the terms Thor had ever used to describe Slytherin, Loki could not remember _sensible_ ever being one of them. 

Darcy was delighted. "Great! You and I can hang out, because Janey here's definitely going into  
Ravenclaw."

"You don't know that," Jane protested. 

"Oh, come on, of course you are. Brain the size of Wales," Darcy said cheerfully, to the group at large. 

"Good place for you, too," Mitchell said teasingly to George. 

Loki turned away to feed an Owl Treat to Bronwyn, suddenly wondering about Ravenclaw. He had always done well at school. Mind you, that was mostly because, having no friends, he had so few distractions, but still. Maybe the Hat would decide--

The door at the end of the carriage opened, and a medium sized boy with a prefect's badge and Gryffindor robes came in. "All right, everyone, it's time for you to change into your robes. I'm Rhodes, by the way, and I'll be directing you when we arrive. If the girls could move down the other end of the carriage-- " Rhodes pulled out his wand and gestured. A set of blackout curtains fell between sections of the carriage, and the window blinds rolled down. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

There was quite a scramble as the boys changed out of the Muggle clothing they had worn to be inconspicuous in the train station. Loki tried not to look at the robes, jumper, trousers and shirt Clint brought out of his package: they were not only obviously old, but were in need of mending and also a good wash. Remembering what Annie had said about the nicest house, Loki began to hope Clint would be in Hufflepuff. Surely Becky and Rogers would notice and make sure he was looked after.

Loki had a little trouble of his own with his uniform: all his school clothing seemed to have mysteriously shrunk since its purchase. His trouser cuffs were well above his ankles, and his sleeves much too short. Perhaps he had gotten taller, which was of course always possible, but the clothes he had worn to the station fit properly--

And then he noticed George's shirtsleeves trailing well over his knuckles, and also Mitchell, doubled up in silent giggles, and realized what had happened. 

"Here, George, I think I've got your clothes," Loki said. George gave him a befuddled look, and Mitchell a sharp one, then hastily began to pull off Loki's things to trade for his own. 

Even with the delay, they were all dressed and ready long before Rhodes came back to deal with the partition. Loki thought they all looked a bit like baby ravens, in their long robes with only a little white shirt peeking out at the throat, and even that partly covered by black neckties since they did not yet have their house ties. 

And then the train was coming to a huffing stop. Rhodes told them to leave whatever belongings they had with them in the compartment, all of which would be brought into the castle for them. Loki left his bundle of Muggle clothing, his lunch tin, and-- very reluctantly-- Bronwyn, and, as Rhodes opened the door, followed the others onto the platform. 

It was much colder here than it had been in London, but it was completely dark and quite misty, so Loki could not see what the place looked like. An enormous figure was standing under a streetlamp a little further down the platform. 

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" he was calling. 

"That must be Hagrid," Loki whispered to Annie. "The groundskeeper. Thor says he doesn't like anyone but Gryffindors."

Annie's forehead wrinkled in a frown of concentration. "Becky says he's kind as anything, although she did tell me to be careful when we start Care of Magical Creatures in third year, because he's so good with all kinds of dangerous animals that he doesn't always stop to remember the students aren't yet. But she certainly didn't say anything about him not liking other houses. Are you sure your brother wasn't just having you on?"

"Maybe," Loki muttered, considering the possibility for the first time as they approached the huge hairy man.

And perhaps Becky was right, or perhaps it was that, being unSorted as yet, the first-years were still potential Gryffindors, but Hagrid greeted them all with a smile. 

"All righ'. Firs' years go up to the castle across the lake, in boats. I'll be leading yeh. Yer things will all be taken to yer new dormitories once yer Sorted, except yer owls. They'll go to the owlery-- "

Loki had planned to be quiet, and good, and not cause any trouble. But at these words his hand flew into the air of its own accord. Hagrid nodded to him, and Loki asked anxiously,

"Can we visit them?"

Hagrid smiled as though Loki had asked exactly the right question. "Course yeh can. Whenever yeh have free time. Take 'em flying whenever yeh have a chance." He nodded at Loki, who smiled tentatively back, and then gestured to the first-years to follow him down a steep path to the landing, where the little boats were waiting. "Four to a boat," Hagrid told them. Annie, George, and Mitchell immediately formed a little knot. Loki hesitated, and the two boys looked around at him while Annie grabbed his hand. 

The night suddenly felt a lot less cold. 

Across the lake, they could by now see Hogwarts itself. As much as Loki had tried to imagine what it looked like, the castle still took his breath away, looming above them on the cliff, a vast place bristling with towers and turrets and lighted windows. 

The closer they got to the castle, the more his companions faces glowed with excitement. Loki, for his part, was beginning to feel sick again. After all this time, all the wishing and hoping, all the terror and dread, he was here at Hogwarts, about to be Sorted. He glanced at the others in the boat with him, and remembered that none of them had seemed bothered by Darcy's approving talk of Slytherin. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps they would still be willing to be his friends when he was in that house. Of course, it would be more difficult if they were in different houses, and they had only just met, but-- 

"Heads down!" Hagrid shouted, and the little boats began to pass through a curtain of ivy, through a passage in the side of the cliff. The students all ducked, and the boats carried them through a dark tunnel into a sort of underground harbour, lit with flaming torches. The little boats scraped onto the pebbly shore, and the students clambered out. 

"Are we at Hogwarts, or Dunkirk?" George whispered, looking at their flotilla. Loki giggled, glad he had gone to Muggle school and could understand the joke. 

The students needed no encouragement to stay together, and Hagrid led them along another passageway that came out practically under the castle walls. There was a flight of stone steps, and a great oak door. 

Hagrid knocked three times, the sound echoing in what must have been a vast hallway beyond. A moment later, the door began to swing open, hinges creaking. The sound made the hair stand up on Loki's neck, and he was not sure whether he moved closer to the other three, or they to him. 

"The firs' years, Professor Sprout," said Hagrid. 

"Thank you, Hagrid," said the witch who was now standing in the doorway. She was all gray: gray hair, gray robes, gray pointed hat. Small and plump, she looked a little like a comfortable purring cat, and she smiled at the students before her. The painful knot building in Loki's throat loosened a little. 

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "I am Professor Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff house, and I hope some of you will soon be joining us." Annie gave an excited little wriggle beside Loki. Professor Sprout went on, "Our welcoming banquet will begin shortly, but before it does, there is a very important task to be done: you must all be Sorted into your houses, which will become like your family here at Hogwarts." For the benefit of any Muggle-borns, she went on to speak about the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. She explained that these were not literally houses, but dormitories and common rooms within the castle, where students would live, sleep, and spend free time together. She also told them about the House Cup, which was won by the house whose members gained the most points throughout the year. 

Loki already knew this, and knew the Gryffindor dormitories and common room were located in one of the castle's great towers. He wondered suddenly whether wind or storms kept the Gryffindors awake-- Loki was nervous of thunder and lightning storms as well as the dark, although he had never admitted as much to anyone. Well, he thought, he was unlikely to find that out, being too cowardly to be in Gryffindor in the first place. 

Professor Sprout led the students into a small chamber off the hall, and told them she would return as soon as the rest of the Sorting ceremony was ready to begin. There was very little talking after she left-- even Darcy seemed nervous. 

"If I'm not in Slytherin, my brother will never speak to me again," Clint whispered to no one in particular.

"Mine will do the same if I am," Loki whispered back. 

It was probably a good thing they weren't left alone very long before Professor Sprout came back, told them to form a line, and led them into the Great Hall. 

They marched to the front of the Hall, under the enchanted ceiling that made the Hall look as if it was open to the night sky. Lit candles flickered and floated above their heads. 

Professor Sprout led the first-years to stand before the long table where the teachers sat. In the middle was Professor McGonagall, a stern elderly witch, Headmistress of Hogwarts. Loki's anxiety was by now so acute that he couldn't even listen as Professor Sprout brought out the Sorting Hat and explained about the ceremony. He didn't hear more than a word or two of the Hat's song, describing the main qualities of the houses: Gryffindor's courage and daring, Hufflepuff's loyalty and acceptance, Ravenclaw's love of wit and learning, Slytherin's cunning and ambition. 

Loki knew all that, and he was busy looking at the house table on his extreme right, which he knew was the Gryffindor table because he could see Potts, the Head Girl, and halfway down the table the bulk of Volstagg. Thor must be sitting quite near Volstagg, but Loki couldn't see him, didn't know whether Thor was taking any interest at all in where his younger brother was Sorted. 

Professor Sprout began to read names from a scroll of parchment, and one by one the first-years stepped up to try on the Hat and learn where it would put them. 

"Banner, Bruce!" This was the curly-haired boy from the train, the one who had wanted to be in Gryffindor. The Hat considered a moment before calling out, "Ravenclaw!" Loki winced in sympathy, but when he took off the Hat and ran toward the cheering Ravenclaw table, Bruce didn't look disappointed at all. 

Not so Barton, Clinton. The Hat took almost no time at all to declare Clint a Gryffindor, and he cast an apologetic look at the Slytherin table before trudging over to the Gryffindor table. Loki saw Potts, and then Rhodes, lean over to speak quietly to him. 

Foster, Jane, was the brown-eyed girl from the train, and she went to Ravenclaw exactly as her cousin had predicted. Likewise, the Hat quickly put Lewis, Darcy, in Slytherin, and she was obviously delighted to go. 

Some of the students were Sorted almost the moment they put the Hat on their heads, but others took some time. Mitchell, who turned out to really be called Mitchell, John, sat on the stool for almost a minute, his face screwed up mutinously, for all the world as though he was having a silent but pitched argument with the Hat. 

It ended with him being Sorted to Hufflepuff, and from the way he was smiling as he ran to the house table, that was the result he had wanted. 

A few minutes later Professor Sprout called out, "Odinson, Loki," and it was his turn. 

If it hadn't been for Mitchell, Loki would probably have sat there with an empty head and waited for his fate. Instead, as the Hat dropped onto his head, Loki gathered all his concentration and directed it into a plea: _Gryffindor, please put me in Gryffindor, please, please…_

"Gryffindor?" asked a small voice next to his ear. "Are you sure?"

Loki wanted to say _Yes, of course I'm sure, that's where I belong,_ but of course he couldn't, because he wasn't anything of the sort. He wasn't really an Odinson, he was afraid of the dark and of storms, he had cried like a baby last night when he was upset about the owl--

He wasn't anything like a Gryffindor, and he knew it. 

And the Hat must know it, too, so Loki changed tactics, instead chanting, _Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, anywhere but Slytherin, please not Slytherin._

The little voice said, "All the houses have their virtues as well as faults, and all have produced great wizards. You must know that my role is to place you in the house that is best for you."

 _Slytherin isn't the best place for me, if you put me there my brother will hate me, my parents will be disappointed in me, please._

There was a pause, and then the little voice said, "Tell me, child. What do you want?"

Loki's heart gave a bump of hope. _Gryffindor, I want to be in Gryffindor, please--_

"Not houses," said the voice. "What do you _want?"_

There was a strange feeling, as if someone had brushed their hand over his hair. A picture rose to the surface of his mind, as if he was someone else, standing back and looking into the train compartment where he and Annie, George, and Mitchell were swapping lunches and laughing together. A moment later he saw himself in the middle of the friendly group in the open compartment, talking with them as if he mattered, too. His heart sped up, and the lump rose in his throat again as he _wanted_ with everything in him. 

And the Hat shouted, _"Hufflepuff!"_

Loki couldn't move for a second: he had never even considered this possibility, any more than he had Ravenclaw until that moment in the train. Thor never talked about Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, and so Loki never thought of them. Thor talked about how great Gryffindor was, and how much he detested Slytherin-- so much so that Mum or Dad would sometimes make a point of mentioning colleagues of theirs who had been in Slytherin, and who were always perfectly nice when they came to dinner. But Thor rarely mentioned Ravenclaws except to call them brainy swots, and he almost never spoke of Hufflepuffs, except pityingly, as if they were such duffers there was nothing to be said about them at all. 

The Hat was being lifted from his head. Loki cut a look at the Gryffindor table. He still couldn't see Thor. 

At the same time there was a whoop of excitement from the Hufflepuff table-- Loki was pretty sure it was Mitchell-- and as Loki ran toward it he could see Annie's sister Becky beaming, and Rogers the prefect reaching out to shake his hand. And then Mitchell was pulling out the chair next to himself and urging Loki into it, pounding him on the back and shoulder. 

"Two in, two to go," Mitchell gloated. It crossed Loki's mind that he had been adopted again. 

Several students later, Romanov, Natasha, walked composedly to the stool and was promptly Sorted into Slytherin. She looked delighted as she ran to the Slytherin table and took the seat next to Darcy.

And then it was Sands, George's turn. George was pale as he sat down, and the Hat considered for the space of three breaths-- not Loki's, Loki was holding his-- before calling out, "Hufflepuff!"

Loki changed chairs of his own accord, to let George sit between Mitchell and himself, and then it was time for Sawyer, Anna-- Annie. 

This time, Loki didn't even hold his breath-- he didn't have time to, because the Hat barely touched Annie's head before it was shouting, "Hufflepuff!"

Becky let out a shriek of excitement and threw her hands in the air. Mitchell, George, and Loki banged on the table, chanting "An-nie! An-nie!" as Annie scampered over to them. Rogers shook her hand, her sister hugged her, and then she was sitting next to Loki with a face like a sunrise. 

The Sorting finished shortly after that. Professor McGonagall stood up to say a few words of welcome, and to introduce the other teachers. Loki was by now tired out from the excitement of the day and had trouble listening, but he did note the heads of the houses aside from Professor Sprout. 

Professor Flitwick, the Ravenclaw head, taught Charms, and was a tiny wizard nearly the size of a house elf. Professor Slughorn, the Slytherin head who taught Potions, was a plump and elderly wizard with a surprisingly kindly face. The head of Gryffindor, Professor Coulson, was a slender, dark-haired wizard who taught Transfiguration. The only other teacher Loki really noticed was Professor Fury, who was a black man with black clothes and a black eyepatch. He taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Loki remembered Dad telling Thor, before his first year, not to mess about in his classes because Fury wouldn't put up with it, and also because Thor wouldn't want to miss anything he had to say. 

After the introductions, Professor McGonagall clapped twice. The tables suddenly filled with plates and platters of all kinds of good things to eat. In spite of a big lunch, Loki was hungry, and nearly all his attention was quickly focused on the food. He found himself hoping, though, that whatever Clint most liked to eat was here. 

And he looked around a few times, in case he could see Thor. He was never successful, and finally gave up. 

The puddings arrived just before everyone would have been too full to appreciate them. Loki had a dish of rice pudding sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon, and then a little chocolate ice cream, because there was always room for chocolate ice cream. Not very long afterward the tables cleared themselves, and after a few remarks and notices that Loki did not remember seconds after they had been uttered, the prefects were asked to lead their houses' first-years to their dormitories.

Hufflepuff did not have one of the towers. In fact-- and this made sense for a house whose emblem was a badger-- their common room and dormitories were located in the basement, the entrance just off the kitchen corridor. If he hadn't been so full and sleepy, Loki might have been disappointed about that. As it was, he simply concentrated on what Rogers was telling them about the technique for getting into their common room without being doused in vinegar. There was a stack of barrels, and you had to tap the correct one to the rhythm of "Helga Hufflepuff" to make the lid open so you could crawl through. 

Loki certainly hoped he would remember that, and not end up smelling like a jar of pickles for his entire first year. 

The lid swung open and Rogers led them all in crawling through a short passage. Then they were in the Hufflepuff common room. 

Anyone expecting the basement room to be dank or dreary was in for a surprise. The room was round, with cozy low ceilings-- although Rogers, who was tall, had plenty of room to stand up straight-- and the walls were hung with copper and cheerful yellow hangings, as well as potted plants that Loki could swear were nodding and whispering greetings to them. 

The furniture was all squashy sofas and chairs, with little round tables set near them. The upholstery was mostly yellow, with some black patterning. There was a fireplace with a fire crackling merrily, copper lamps, and round windows high in the walls. 

On each side of the room was a perfectly round door, which Becky explained led to the girls' and boys' dormitories. She led the girls away, while the boys followed Rogers through the round door and down a corridor with rooms opening off it. 

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit," George said, under his breath. Rogers glanced back with a laugh. 

"Yes," he agreed. "A lot of people have guessed that Tolkien had friends in the wizarding world, but most don't realize his wizard friends were Hufflepuffs. He never saw our basement, but it was obviously described to him."

Finally, the first-year boys arrived at their dormitories. Loki found the room where his trunk had been unpacked-- his jumpers already edged in yellow and black, badger crests on his robes, and a new black-and-yellow scarf neatly folded in the second drawer, below the hanging compartment, of the wardrobe where his belongings had been put away. 

Well, almost neatly. Loki noticed the scarf looked a bit bulgy, and he lifted it a little to find his floppy rhinoceros hidden safely underneath. 

There was a fireplace in the room, with copper warming pans hanging near it in case anyone's feet were cold. The four-poster beds were covered in patchwork quilts and even if he hadn't been so tired Loki would have found them cozy and welcoming.

"It smells nice in here," Mitchell noted. 

"Check under your pillows," Rogers advised. "Professor Sprout usually makes up sachets for the new first-years-- lavender, camomile, and a little peppermint, all of which are calming, soothing herbs. I don't always keep mine under my pillow anymore, but I like to have it with me during exams. Nothing illegal about it, and you're welcome to make them for your friends as soon as you learn a little Herbology. Professor Sprout just likes everyone to get a good night's sleep their first night in Hufflepuff. And I think you should do just that."

Loki, his friends, and the other Hufflepuff first-years got into their pajamas and chose up beds. Loki got the one in the far corner, by the wall. One of the other boys took a fancy to a particular quilt in green and brown that reminded him of the woods near his home. Everyone else chose a bed and they all crawled under the covers. Mitchell turned out the lamp. 

"Good night, everyone," he said as he got into bed.

"Good night," Loki yawned. He reached under his pillow to find the lavender sachet, and curled his fingers around it. 

It was the very best sleep he had had in months.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** I have got to get more of a plot together for this story, but in the meantime, have some settling-in and starting classes. Also, we meet some of the teachers. There is no brotherly contact in this chapter. Surely absence will make the heart grow fonder?
> 
> _It's occurred to me that I don't think I have any Enemy Teachers in this story. As a former teacher of young kids myself, I think I don't have the heart for it. And anyway, Loki's had enough troubled relationships with authority figures for one lifetime!_
> 
> _**Warnings:** The timeline in this chapter is very slightly wonky: it starts with a general summary of the week, and then backtracks to Monday for a bit more detail._

The first week of classes was rather a blur: Loki and his new friends felt lucky if they found their way to breakfast before lunch time, let alone to all their classes. Fortunately Hufflepuff's ghost, the Fat Friar, was very helpful to the first-years, and they quickly learned that prefects, in spite of being tall and superior, were always willing to direct-- or sometimes even lead-- frantic younger students to the correct classroom. 

Even so, what with the staircases moving, doors sometimes requiring special knocks or tickles before they would open, and the sheer _size_ of the castle, most of the first years were late to at least one class in the first week. 

Also, as Loki had feared, he spent much of that week smelling rather pickled. The Hufflepuff common room could only be entered through the passage behind the barrel, and if you tapped on the wrong barrel, or got confused and tapped the wrong rhythm, not only would the passage not open, you also got doused in vinegar for your trouble. 

"No one but Hufflepuffs have seen the inside of our common room in a thousand years," Becky informed them cheerfully on the first morning. Loki rather thought some of the new Hufflepuffs might never see it again, after he and Mitchell completely forgot which barrel to knock on after dinner on Monday, and they all four found themselves soaked, smelly, and stuck in the hallway until Rogers happened along to rescue them. (It turned out the magical supply of vinegar was equal to repeated soakings, if the tapper was both confused and persistent.) 

On Tuesday, it was George who forgot, and on Wednesday Loki found himself behind a group of third-years who were so involved in a discussion of their Arithmancy homework that one of them absent-mindedly rapped out "shave-and-a-haircut" instead of the correct rhythm. 

On Thursday after lunch, Loki was quite sure Mitchell tapped the wrong barrel on purpose, just to distract George from his anxiety about their upcoming flying lessons. By this time Loki was beginning to feel rather guilty about the amount of extra work he and his housemates were creating for the school's house elves, and left an apologetic note pinned to his wet clothing, addressed to the elves who would have to deal with the mess. There was no note in reply when he returned to the dormitory after dinner, but Loki discovered his bed had been re-made much more neatly than he had left it.

Aside from these occasional vinegar baths-- and really, as Mitchell pointed out, at least they could not possibly catch flu or anything, not when they kept disinfecting themselves at this rate-- the worst thing about the first week was not being able to exchange even a word with Thor. Loki saw his brother from a distance several times, but either he was rushing to class or surrounded by his friends-- and once, in the dining hall, he got up from the Gryffindor table and walked away just as Loki was approaching. Loki wasn't sure whether his brother had done it on purpose, but he couldn't make himself run after Thor like a puppy, not in front of the whole school, so he returned to the Hufflepuff table trying to look as if nothing had happened. 

The best thing about the first week, aside from no longer being alone all the time, was beginning classes.

The Hogwarts term always began on September second. This was a year in which September second actually fell on a Monday, which meant they began with a full week of classes. For Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, that meant double Defense Against the Dark Arts first thing on Monday morning. 

Really, Loki thought later, the timetable had done them all a favour: after facing Professor Fury, a person could be quite confident nothing more terrifying could happen to them for the rest of the week. Not that he seemed to go out of his way to be scary, he was just one of those teachers who naturally filled students with the urge to hide underneath their desks. 

Professor Fury walked into the classroom, looking very much like a storm cloud with feet, and slammed his copy of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ onto the podium at the front of the room. All the students flinched.

"All right," he said, his one dark eye scanning the class for any sign of inattention, trouble, or Dark wizardry, "let me make one thing perfectly clear: I do not put up with any fooling around in my class. I don't care if there's been ten years of peace, and I don't care if you're eleven years old, because the Dark forces don't care, either. It's my job to teach you how to recognize them, protect yourself from them, and have the basic common sense not to let yourself give in to them. You pay attention, and ask the occasional halfway sensible question, and we'll get along fine. You start thinking there's anything exciting, or cool, or _attractive_ about the Dark Arts… and we won't."

Loki swallowed hard as Professor Fury looked around the class again, his eye pausing on each face, sure as anything the teacher could see the Dark magic running right through his veins. He was almost surprised when Fury just glanced at him and moved on without comment before beginning his lecture. Loki still took diligent notes on everything Fury said, even though his hand was cramping badly by the time the teacher excused them. 

"Whew!" Jane whistled, as they left the classroom. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to check under my bed for Dark sorcerers tonight. What do we have next?" she asked Bruce, who had his timetable out. 

"History of Magic, with Slytherin," Bruce announced. "And I have no idea where the classroom is." 

"See you later," Jane said, as she and Bruce ran off to look for their next class. 

"The funny thing," George said thoughtfully, "is that having him tell us there really are things to be scared of somehow makes me less scared of things." 

"George, you're weird," Mitchell announced, as they walked out of the castle in search of their own next class, Herbology with the Gryffindors in Greenhouse Number One. 

"No, I'm serious," George insisted. "It's much worse when people keep telling you there's nothing to be afraid of, and you are anyway." 

Loki realized his mouth was hanging open, and closed it. No one noticed, because just then Annie looked around.

"You know, I don't think this is the way to Greenhouse Number One," she said. "And we've lost everyone else." The four friends looked at each other, and then headed for the corner of the castle at a dead run. 

~oOo~

Herbology was not exactly easy, but at least it wasn't frightening. They stood at a long raised planting box, a row on either side. Professor Sprout-- and her assistant Mr. Longbottom, who was training as a teacher-- organized the students so they alternated by houses: a Hufflepuff, then a Gryffindor, then a Hufflepuff. Loki and Annie were one either side of Clint, whose uniform was noticeably cleaner and in better repair than it had been when he arrived. Loki wondered exactly how many house elves worked at Hogwarts, and hoped they felt it was a good job.

Clint might have been much cleaner than he had been last night, but Professor Sprout was, in turn, a great deal dirtier: her gray robes were smeared with earth, as was her face, and Loki had never seen dirtier fingernails on a grownup. She smiled a greeting at the students and said, in her clear, cheerful voice, 

"Now, we will begin with common herbs that have beneficial properties. In the planting box before you, you will find spearmint and peppermint, both of which have calming and protective powers. You will draw and label one specimen of each, and you may work in pairs-- one Hufflepuff and one Gryffindor." Annie turned to the Gryffindor girl to her right, and Loki paired off with Clint. Professor Sprout added, with kindly firmness, "Keep in mind that failing to work well together will cause you to lose points for your houses. And-- begin."

Loki and Clint each had their textbooks, _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , in their schoolbags. Clint's was at least second-hand and had been considerably marked on, including outlining and shading on many of the illustrations. This meant his book wasn't a lot of use in identifying real plants, so they used Loki's to figure out which of the plants was peppermint and which spearmint. Loki could draw rather better than Clint, so he sketched the plants while Clint referred to the book to check his work.

"Those leaves should be pointier," Clint said, and Loki scratched carefully with his quill.

"Like this?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's better," Clint nodded. 

"How are you liking Gryffindor?" Loki asked quietly. Clint went silent, and after a moment Loki looked up to find the other boy almost glaring at him. "I'm not making fun of you," Loki said hastily. "I know you wanted to go… somewhere else." 

"It's all right," Clint muttered. "Everyone's… everyone's being nice to me." He sounded as if the admission hurt his throat. It occurred to Loki that Clint's big brother probably talked about Gryffindor the way Loki's big brother talked about Slytherin. And then he couldn't help asking,

"Have you met my brother yet? Thor Odinson, in fourth year?"

"Yeah," Clint replied. "He's cool." In a smaller voice, he said, "You're really lucky."

"Yeah," Loki muttered. "Lucky."

After Herbology there was a free double period, then lunch. By next week they would surely need that time for homework, but today they went to the owlery, to take Bronwyn flying.

Loki hadn't really thought of this when he first started yearning over Bronwyn, but he was glad she was a member of a species that was active in the daytime. When he and his friends found the owlery, she acted happy to see him-- or anyway she flew right to his shoulder and made squeaking noises in his ear-- which Loki liked, but also made him glad he was wearing a heavy robe over a shirt and jumper. 

The lawn behind the castle was a good place to play with a ground-nesting owl. Loki hadn't thought to bring a toy for Bronwyn to chase, so he took off his socks and rolled them into a ball to throw for her. Mitchell kicked up quite a teasing fuss about having to touch Loki's socks, but he took a turn throwing the same as all of them. 

"You should get a tennis ball and a racquet," George suggested, as he threw the socks straight up and they watched Bronwyn snatch them in mid-air. Loki had watched tennis with Bindi a few times, until the elf decided it was a dull game. Loki still didn't know how the scoring worked, but batting the ball back and forth looked like it would be fun, especially if there was an owl flying around to pounce on any misses that went rolling across the grass. 

After a while Bronwyn seemed to get tired of chasing the socks, and flew with them to a tree branch. Clutching them in her talons, she pulled at them with her beak as if trying to disembowel them. 

"Oh-oh," Annie said, pressing a hand to her mouth to smother a giggle. Loki didn't find it quite so funny.

"Oh no, what if she eats them? Bronwyn, stop that-- " He had, luckily, stuffed the last of the Owl Treats in his pocket before leaving the dormitory, and now he shook the packet. Bronwyn looked up, ear tufts lifting, and then dropped the mangled socks and flew to Loki. "Good girl," he said in relief, offering an Owl Treat. 

By now there was really no time to go back to the dormitory for a change of socks, so Loki pulled the ruined ones back on and, after returning Bronwyn to the owlery, they hurried off to lunch, and then Transfiguration and Charms with the Slytherins. 

"Does anyone know where the classroom is?" Loki asked, as the Hufflepuff first-years joined the Slytherin first-years on their way out of the dining hall. 

"Not even a tiny clue," Darcy replied glumly. 

"Do you know what, I think it would be helpful if they gave us a map of the castle along with our timetables," Annie remarked. 

"This is probably supposed to help us learn to be resourceful and self-sufficient," Natasha suggested. 

"You know what else will help us learn to be resourceful and self-sufficient?" Mitchell said. "Getting hopelessly lost in the castle and having to scrounge for our own food and shelter for weeks." 

"The Hufflepuffs will get eaten first," Darcy promised, and Mitchell grinned at her.

"Does anyone know where that dog came from?" George asked suddenly. 

Everyone in the group stared at him. "What dog?" Darcy asked. George gestured. They all looked around, and Darcy and Annie both squealed. "How cute!"

The dog, in Loki's opinion, was not precisely "cute," although Loki would agree he was rather handsome, a businesslike border collie with a black coat and a shining white shirt front. He was pacing along just behind and to the right of the gaggle of first-years as they walked down the corridor. 

"Are we sure he's not a Grim?" George asked suddenly. "Isn't a Grim a black dog?"

"But he's a black and white dog," Annie pointed out. "And besides, I don't think Grims are ever border collies. Or Labradors, come to think of it."

"What's a Grim?" asked a Muggle-born Hufflepuff called Dennis. 

"It is generally considered an omen of Death," Natasha replied calmly. Loki glanced at the dog, who regarded him levelly out of its eerie hazel eyes. Loki didn't quite edge backwards. 

"I think a border collie is generally considered an omen of going someplace in a group," Mitchell said. "And I also think the classroom is down this way." 

Mitchell started to turn down the corridor, and the dog trotted smoothly out in front of the group and blocked him. Mitchell stopped, and the rest of the first-years behind him. The dog lowered himself a little and made intense eye contact as he edged forward. 

"Mitchell, don't stare at the dog," George said nervously, pulling his friend backward. "That's one thing I know about dogs: they don't like to be stared at."

" _I'm_ not staring at _him,"_ Mitchell protested. " _He's_ staring at _me!"_

"I'm pretty sure he's trying to get us to go that way," Darcy said, pointing down the corridor in the other direction.

"Yeah, but is that the way we want to go?" George started to argue. The dog crouched, took another step forward, and the first-years gave in, wheeling and hurrying down the indicated passage like a flock of nervous black lambs. 

"It would be a lot easier if the dog would just _lead_ us in the direction he wants us to go," Loki grumbled as the dog glided forward to block them from turning down another passage. 

"That's not how border collies work," said a chunky Slytherin called Ian, who was bringing up the rear. "And slow down, would you? When I can't keep up, he starts nipping at my ankles!" 

"He's not supposed to do that," Darcy protested. "That's corgis!"

"Well, _you_ tell him so!" Ian told her. 

Eventually, the first-years arrived in a corridor which dead-ended at a classroom door. The dog seemed determined they should enter, so they did. 

"If this isn't the right classroom, who wants to explain things to Professor Coulson?" Dennis asked. 

"Like I said, Hufflepuffs get eaten first," Darcy reminded him.

"Where's he going?" George wondered out loud, as the dog trotted past them toward the teacher's podium. As he did so, the air around him seemed to wriggle and in the next instant the students were watching Professor Coulson, in his neat black robes with a white cravat at the collar, turning toward them at the podium. 

"Transfiguration," he said calmly, "is a branch of magic that focuses on the alteration of the form or appearance of an object, via the alteration of the object's molecular structure. Human transfiguration-- including any discussion of animagi-- is, of course, a subject for your upper years here at Hogwarts. We are going to start a great deal smaller. Will everyone please take out their quills and a roll of parchment, and we can begin on the basic principles."

Loki closed his mouth with a snap and began to root in his schoolbag. 

~oOo~

"You know what I need," George said on Tuesday morning, as he wolfed down toast and eggs. "I need an extra reservoir for my brain. Wouldn't that be handy? When the main brain fills up, I could just siphon off some of the excess into the reservoir and keep right on learning."

"That would be awfully handy," Mitchell agreed. "My brain's getting full and it's only Tuesday."

"Especially with double Transfiguration this morning," Loki said. "And then-- what's after break?"

"Potions," said Annie, without consulting her schedule. "With Ravenclaw."

"And Professor Slughorn," Loki muttered. _The head of Slytherin._

Loki was trying to convince himself that facing the head of Slytherin wasn't so bad-- after all, he'd spent most of Monday afternoon with the Slytherin first-years, between Transfiguration and Charms, and they seemed all right-- when Annie's sister Becky came sweeping up to sit down beside her. 

"I can't stay long," she said quickly, "I have to get to Care of Magical Creatures, but I wanted to make sure you're all right. We haven't had nearly enough time to talk this last couple of days." 

Annie glowed under Becky's regard, and assured her sister that everything was going well and she hoped Professor Coulson would turn into a border collie again today. Becky laughed as she rose from her chair. 

"Yes, some of the boys call him 'Shep' behind his back, but don't let me catch you doing that. How are you three?" she went on, casting a friendly glance over Loki, George, and Mitchell. "All right?"

"Yes," Loki said, when her regard fell on him, and he felt like he might have glowed a little bit, too. And then he couldn't stop himself saying, "We have Potions this afternoon, with Professor Slughorn," just to see how Becky would react. 

"Do you?" she said. "Well, make sure you measure everything twice before you put it in your cauldron, although Slughorn's not likely to set you anything dangerous until you've had some practice. Potions is a tricky subject."

Loki decided it was encouraging, that Becky offered advice and warnings about the _subject_ instead of the _teacher._ And then a couple of passing fifth-years called to her, and she patted Annie and ran off out of the dining hall. 

Professor Coulson didn't turn into a border collie for this class, and he set them quite a lot of notes and diagrams in the first half of the class. For much of the second he had them practicing with their wands and a basic incantation, trying to turn a matchstick into a needle. By the end of the class Loki was one of three students who had managed to at least turn their matchsticks silvery, and he was awarded his first five points for Hufflepuff. 

This small feeling of accomplishment sustained Loki as the Hufflepuffs searched for the Potions classroom, but it leaked away as they took their seats and waited for the class to begin. The Ravenclaws had just had Charms, and came scurrying in as Professor Slughorn entered the classroom from the other door. 

"Good afternoon," he said, and introduced himself. "The ability to make potions is one of the most valuable tools of any witch or wizard. It is an exact, and exacting, art, requiring patience and attention to detail. For this reason, many first-year students find Potions to be a frustrating class. I can assure you that, if you are diligent, you will eventually be pleased with your results." He smiled generally around the class, and Loki felt himself relax slightly. 

"Now," the professor went on, "given that this is our first class, and our time is short, I think perhaps our best first lesson is a small illustration of the finicky nature of potions-making. On page thirty-two of your text, _Magical Drafts and Potions_ , you will find instructions for an amusing little potion called Faceret Ampliora. If brewed correctly-- well, we will see if anyone manages to brew it correctly. The ingredients may be found in the cupboards at the back of the room. You may have the rest of this class to brew your potions-- individually, please-- and make notes on them. We will test your results at the end of the class, and you will each save a sample of your potion so that on Thursday morning we can discuss it and your notes to determine how you came by the results you did. 

"Very well-- back rows first, in an orderly fashion, please go find your ingredients."

Loki wasn't sure what he had expected from the Potions teacher, but a perfectly reasonable greeting and an invitation to experiment wasn't it. He set up his cauldron, fetched his ingredients, and settled down to attempt his first potion. 

The process was oddly soothing, although Loki could tell by comparing his results to the description in the textbook that he was doing something wrong. Professor Slughorn roamed the classroom, peering into cauldrons, offering commentary in an amiable tone, and making notes on everyone's efforts. Loki took special care to make accurate notes of what he was doing, because he had a strong suspicion that on Thursday morning, it would turn out Slughorn remembered every move everyone had made and would be ready to dissect them in detail. 

He glanced up as Professor Slughorn stopped at the table where he, Annie, Mitchell and George were working. The teacher peered into Loki's cauldron, which contained a bubbling greenish mess that looked like thick pea soup. 

"And what do you think of this, Mr.-- Odinson, am I correct?"

"Yes," Loki mumbled. "Loki Odinson."

"You father is Odin Odinson?" Professor Slughorn went on, ignoring the stifled splutter from Mitchell. Loki nodded. "Good man. Tell me, what do you think of this potion?"

"It's… pretty bad," Loki admitted. "It's much too thick, it's not supposed to have lumps, and it's not nearly green enough." _It's not supposed to look like bogeys_ popped into his mind, but he suppressed the urge to say it. 

"Oh, I wouldn't say _bad_ , not for a first effort," Slughorn said genially. "Save your sample at the end of class, and then read the entry in the textbook and consult your notes for Thursday morning. We'll see if you can explain where you went wrong."

"Yes, sir," Loki muttered. 

"Good man," said Slughorn, and moved on to the rest of the table. George's potion was noticeably less lumpy than Loki's, but more yellow than green. Mitchell's potion was thin and clear, but for some reason was bright _pink._

"Oh dear," said Professor Slughorn. "I think, dear boy, we will _not_ save a sample of this potion. This is… not a common result, but it can be rather volatile. In fact-- " He flicked out his wand and, with a fastidious gesture, made Mitchell's potion vanish. Looking at the stricken face before him, Slughorn said kindly, "A most interesting result, if not what we were hoping for." 

He moved on to Annie, who looked distinctly nervous, examined her cauldron, and then said in a pleased voice, "And here we see a very creditable effort!" Annie looked startled as Professor Slughorn reached into his robes and brought out a dipper with a pewter handle and a clear glass bowl. He scooped up a small amount of the potion and held it up to the light. "Very creditable indeed." 

Turning to the rest of the class, he said, "If you would all please notice-- there is some sediment, which is undesirable, and the colour is that of mature grass, rather than-- well, Mr. Stark, in seventh year, refers to the exact shade as _British racing green_ , which may be of some help to some of you-- but still, you will notice the potion is not at all cloudy, the colour is strong and even, and-- "

 _"-- not pink,"_ Mitchell muttered. Loki stifled a snicker of his own. 

"-- really, I think this is the best result in class today. Well done, Miss-- ?"

"Sawyer," Annie supplied. 

"Sawyer." To the class in general he asked, "Shall we test it?"

The whole class nodded. According to the textbook, if properly brewed this potion would temporarily increase the size of any living creature it was administered to. Professor Slughorn took the dipperful of potion to the front of the classroom, where he produced a potted dandelion. 

"I always recommend that you have a good supply of dandelions on hand, for testing any potion that works on living creatures," Slughorn remarked, as he set the plant on a table where everyone could see. "The days of testing on house elves and younger siblings are behind us." A few of the students laughed-- which indicated they were either Muggle-borns or had not read far enough in _A History of Magic._ Professor Slughorn added, "Daisies and pansies also work well, and can produce a most amusing effect with a draught like this one. Miss Sawyer, if you would be so kind as to join me-- "

Annie went to the front of the room, looking rather embarrassed, and hung back shyly as Professor Slughorn allowed a dribble of her potion to fall on the yellow head of the dandelion. 

It immediately shot upwards, growing at least six feet tall in the blink of an eye, its stem like a young tree trunk and its leaves nearly as long as Loki's arms. As the students looked up in wonder, the yellow face, like a sun, turned as if to look down at them. 

The plant stood there for a shivering moment, and then collapsed under its own weight, shrinking rapidly into a shriveled little mass that looked as if it had been touched by frost. 

"The effects should last a great deal longer than that," Slughorn noted. "But still, for a first attempt-- have you done any potions-making before now, Miss Sawyer?"

"No," Annie replied. "But my mother taught my sister and me to cook."

"Ah. Your sister is in fifth year? Rebecca?" Annie nodded. "Also a proficient potions student. You do her credit. Ten points to Hufflepuff." Looking around, Slughorn added, "And five to Ravenclaw, since more of you produced a completed effort of some sort. Please ensure your name is on the cork of your sample phial and leave them in the rack at the back of the room. Then you may tidy up."

As they hurried out of the classroom a little later to find their way back to Greenhouse Number One, still congratulating Annie on her triumph, Loki couldn't resist admitting, just to his three friends, 

"I can't believe Professor Slughorn is the head of _Slytherin."_

"And _I_ can't believe your dad's name is _Odin Odinson,"_ Mitchell giggled. 

~oOo~

By Friday night, all the first-years were exhausted, and most of the older students looked tired as well. Loki and his friends were in the common room-- which smelled of peppermint, lavender, and faintly of vinegar-- sitting on a rug they had dragged over to a corner near the fireplace. George was reading _A History of Magic_ \-- Professor Binns' lectures were dry going, and George had decided he could get as much out of reading the book as from exhausting himself making notes. Mitchell was still trying to work out why his first potion had gone pink-- by now he knew his result would have turned the dandelion into a fanged monstrosity, and he badly wanted to see what that looked like. Annie and Loki were both writing letters to their parents. 

"Is it bragging to tell them I got ten points for my first potion?" Annie asked. 

"I don't see how, since it's the truth. _I'm_ going to tell my parents I managed to turn a matchstick grey in my first Transfiguration class," Loki replied. "And I might tell them that I'm friends with the person who got ten points for her first potion."

Annie stuck out her tongue at him, giggled, and went back to her letter. 

Loki looked around at George, frowning in concentration. At Mitchell, scribbling over his original notes and muttering to himself. At Annie, writing fluidly, as if she had more happy things to tell than ink to tell them with. 

Then he dipped his quill in his ink bottle and wrote at the bottom of his letter, 

_Dad, what you said to me on the train platform… I think you were right._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** Flying lessons, among other things. I actually have some experience, long ago, in teaching Air Cadets to fly gliders, but when I saw the flying lesson in the first Harry Potter movie, I was irresistibly reminded of horseback riding lessons, which I have also taken (and taught). Anyone who has ever dealt with strong-minded old school horses probably shared my trepidation at the notion of twenty-odd kids being taught all at once on self-willed school brooms. I have, therefore, adjusted the first flying lesson just slightly to accommodate my own teacherly anxieties-- and to reflect how I think the brooms would behave!
> 
>  
> 
> _Also, I know a number of riding instructors who hired someone else to give their own kids lessons, much as my dad realized early on that he (a teacher himself) should not try to teach us to drive._
> 
>  
> 
> _**Warnings:** Someone is a jerkbrain in this chapter. Three guesses who. _

"I can't decide whether I feel like I need to wee because I'm excited, or because I'm terrified," George muttered as the Hufflepuff first-years hurried down the front steps of the castle to join the Ravenclaws on the grounds. It was Friday afternoon of their second week at Hogwarts, and the two houses were about to have their first flying lesson. 

"You should always go before we set out anywhere," Mitchell muttered back, as Loki and Annie giggled quietly behind them. Loki, for one, wasn't making fun of George: one thing he admired about the bespectacled boy was the way he would admit to being scared of things. Loki had always done everything he could think of to keep his parents and his brother from finding out, for instance, that he was still afraid of the dark. George's willingness to come right out and say he was scared to start flying lessons felt almost heroic to Loki. 

"Oh, ha-ha," George said sourly-- and that was the other part of it, the way George would say he was nervous, and Mitchell would tease him about it, and that would distract George. Loki was beginning to think the two of them did it on purpose. George went on, "Easy for you to say, you've probably been flying all your life." He glanced around at the rest of the wizard-born kids in the group, some of whom nodded. 

"Not me," Mitchell replied, "and you know it. Where would we go flying in London?"

"How about you?" George asked Loki, who wriggled. 

"Not really," he admitted. Several of the kids looked startled at his words, mostly wizard-borns who had heard of his family. Loki explained, "I had one of those toy broomsticks when I was little, but those don't really count, do they?" Most wizarding children had them, tiny broomsticks which would glide so close to the ground the child's toes dragged, and stop at once if the rider began to lose his balance. "And Mum has an old Cleansweep Five she let my brother and me ride a little, when we were on holiday in Elder Cross, but she and Dad never really taught us to fly. Thor only learned properly here at school and they've had me wait, too."

"For goodness' sake, why?" asked Dennis. "If _they_ know how-- "

"Dad said _his_ father tried to teach him, and spent the whole time shouting so much that Dad ended up hating to even think about flying," Loki explained. A few of the wizard-born Hufflepuffs winced knowingly. "And Mum tried a time or two, but she kept getting nervous and making us come back down. She says there are some things a parent probably shouldn't try to teach their own kids, and flying is one of them." 

"That's too bad, though," Annie said. "If your brother could fly on holiday and you couldn't-- "

"That didn't make any difference, though," Loki said unguardedly. "He wouldn't let me-- well, he's older than me, you know?" He felt hot all over at his mistaken admission, but luckily by now they had reached the part of the lawn where the Ravenclaws waited next to two lines of broomsticks. 

There were two teachers standing with the Ravenclaws. Madame Hooch, the flying teacher, was short, with spiky gray hair and yellow eyes like a bird of prey. Standing beside her, much taller and with a round friendly face, was Mr. Longbottom, the student Herbology teacher. George made a pleased little noise-- Mr. Longbottom had been a Gryffindor at school, but if you didn't know that you'd swear he must have been a Hufflepuff, and the sight of him was reassuring. 

"Hurry up," Madame Hooch ordered. "Everyone stand next to a broomstick. Come along, then, broomstick on your right." The two groups hurried to obey, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs mixing up together. Loki ended up standing across from Annie, and between Mitchell and Bruce. Next to Annie was Jane, who looked just as scared as George did despite being wizard-born and presumably familiar with flying. 

Madame Hooch walked between the two rows of students. "Mr. Longbottom has agreed to act as my assistant today."

"He must have been one of the best flyers, when he was here," Jane whispered to Annie, who nodded. Mr. Longbottom overheard her. 

"Actually, Miss Foster, I was one of the worst, to begin with," he said easily. At the skeptical expressions on some of their faces, he insisted, "That's not false modesty. I really was awful, I needed a lot of extra help." Madame Hooch let out a bark of laughter, and Mr. Longbottom smiled reminiscently. "I was in the same year as Harry Potter, you know. Harry was a natural."

"I've never seen anything like him," Madame Hooch agreed readily. "Could have played Seeker for England."

"And the thing is," Mr. Longbottom went on, "when a person learns something as easily as he did flying, they can't always explain _how_ to do it to someone else. I don't think Harry could." He grinned. "Defense Against the Dark Arts, yes. Flying, no. I, on the other hand, could look at any of you making a mistake and remember what it felt like when _I_ did the same thing, and how I had to fix it."

"In fact," said Madame Hooch, "I think we'll ask Mr. Longbottom to give a short demonstration of our first lesson, so that you can see what will be expected of you. Everyone turn so you can see him."

Mr. Longbottom walked out to a clear stretch of grass, where a broomstick was lying, and looked to Madame Hooch for instructions. 

"You will hold out your right hand, over the broom, and say 'Up!'" said Madame Hooch. Mr. Longbottom did so, and the broomstick-- a fairly new Bluebottle commuting model that probably belonged to Mr. Longbottom-- leaped up into his hand. 

Madame Hooch walked her assistant through the process of taking off, hovering briefly, and coming straight back down. Then he took off again and flew in a big circle around the lawn, landing gently at his takeoff point. 

"All right. Now that you've seen what will be expected of you-- " said Madame Hooch, and gestured to Mr. Longbottom to come back to the group to help her correct the students' grips on their brooms. 

They spent the next half hour practicing takeoff, hovering, and landing. This was something Loki could already do fairly well, but everyone quickly got quite good at it, including George and Jane. One of the Muggle-born Hufflepuffs, a pigtailed girl called Pippa, muttered a lot about horse-riding lessons and something called a longe line, but she seemed to pick up the necessary skills remarkably quickly. 

Loki remembered Thor, in his first year, writing in his letters home about flying lessons. He had complained that the school's lesson brooms were mostly off-balance and inclined to have a sort of mind of their own. Loki quickly realized the broom he was riding felt very different from his mother's tidy, biddable old Cleansweep: it was as if this broom was so used to the mistakes of beginners, and the routine of first lessons, that it would almost go through its paces without any input from Loki at all. He had to be alert not to let it touch back down before he asked it to, and also had to be conscious that it seemed to want nothing more than to return to the ground and the company of the other broomsticks. 

This became even more obvious in the last half of the class, when Madame Hooch had everyone take it in turns to fly a big circle and come back to the group. About half the students, and not only the Muggle-borns-- who understandably had no experience at all with broomsticks-- couldn't make their brooms leave the group at all. Pippa went about fifteen feet on her first attempt and then her broomstick ducked back hard, nearly unseating her. 

She did not have to be encouraged to try again: face set, she kicked off, shifting her grip and weight to hold the broom toward the outside of her intended circle. When it ducked the second time she was ready for it, pulling hard sideways and making a very strange gesture with her inside leg, as though trying to kick the broomstick in its non-existent ribs. After that she had no further trouble, and when she landed she patted her mount as if it was a pony. 

George was one of those who couldn't make his broomstick leave the group. Madame Hooch had anyone having such trouble walk to the other side of the lawn and then fly directly back to the group, which all the brooms were willing to do-- although sometimes a little faster than their riders seemed comfortable with. 

When it was Loki's turn, his earlier insistence on giving commands before the broom could touch down seemed to pay off, because he was able to take off and fly his circle without anything unexpected happening. 

Well, not with his broomstick, anyway. As he flew, he realized the other students were laughing and pointing at something. He looked around just as a mottled shape went cruising silently past his head, long wings beating in the irregular pattern that gave the short-eared owl its oddly floating way of flying. 

"Hi, Bronwyn," he called as she came gliding back around, as if to show him how flying was supposed to be done. 

"Mr. Odinson, is that your owl?" Madame Hooch called, as Loki finished his circle-- holding his broomstick back from diving toward the group on the ground. Bronwyn sailed past them and completed another circle on her own, apparently to show off, before landing nearby on the lawn. 

"Yes, Madame Hooch," he said nervously. The owlery was always open so its occupants could fly about at will, and Loki and his friends took advantage of Bronwyn's sleeping patterns to play with her almost every day. She was an excellent post-carrier-- she had flown to London with his letter in only a couple of days, returning halfway through the week with a nice long one from his parents-- but she definitely acted more like a pet than some of the other owls did. 

This did not seem to bother Madame Hooch.

"You'll need plenty of practice, if you're going to fly about with an owl," she remarked. "All right, Mr. Mitchell-- " this was his proper name, of course, but the Hufflepuffs all smothered giggles at the way it made him sound like a nursery-school teacher-- "it's your turn."

Bronwyn, who was of course friends with Mitchell, obligingly flew around with him as well, and then Annie. Annie had been having a little trouble with her broom, earlier, but it seemed pleased to have someone else to fly with, and went along quite happily with Bronwyn. 

The lesson ended just as Bronwyn got tired or bored and flew back to the owlery. The students helped put away the broomsticks and then went back to the castle for lunch, chattering excitedly among themselves. 

By the time they entered the Great Hall, the house tables were quite full and the great chamber was very noisy. Mitchell glanced over at the Gryffindor table. 

"Oh look, there's Clint," he said. "Didn't they have their first flying lesson yesterday? I wonder how it went." And without waiting for his friends to say anything, he hurried over to speak to the other boy. 

Clint, who was sitting quite near Thor and his friends, looked up as Mitchell hailed him. Loki edged toward his brother, who didn't seem to notice him. 

"We've just had our first flying lesson," Mitchell was telling Clint. "How was yours?"

"Not bad," Clint said, looking uncomfortable. 

"Too bad they had to have it with Slytherin," Fandral remarked loudly. Loki cut a startled look at him: of course Thor and his friends didn't much care for Slytherin-- the houses were arch-rivals, after all-- but he couldn't believe Fandral would say such a thing in front of someone whose own brother was in Slytherin. And besides, wasn't Clint friendly with Natasha?

Clint said nothing, although he looked even more uneasy. Not knowing what he should say, Loki said nothing. Instead, he tapped his brother on the shoulder. 

"Hi, Thor," he said awkwardly, as his brother finally turned toward him in acknowledgement. "How... how's your term going?" 

Thor shrugged, picked up his goblet of pumpkin juice, and drained it. 

"Busy," he said shortly. 

"I was... I was wondering if we could, maybe-- " Loki began, faltering in the face of his brother's obvious indifference. 

Thor wiped his mouth and said, "Look, we've got to go-- we need to practice some flying of our own before Quidditch tryouts tomorrow afternoon. Sif's going to try for Chaser this year. And we've got to hurry up before Herbology."

"With _Hufflepuff,"_ Sif giggled. "Everything takes twice as long as it should, with that lot." Loki went hot all over, but nobody noticed because he was pushed to one side as Volstagg got up from his chair. 

"Do you want to come watch us?" Thor asked, and for half a second Loki thought the invitation was directed at him. And then he saw Thor was looking at Clint, who nodded hastily and bolted the last of his lunch while the older Gryffindors waited for him. 

"Thor-- ?" Loki began, almost giving in to the urge to catch at his brother's robe. Thor didn't seem to hear him, and walked away with his friends. Loki stood there, watching him go.

Someone tugged at Loki's arm, and he turned to find Annie standing right next to him, her eyes wide with concern. His friends, Loki recalled, had never seen him with his brother before this. 

"Come on," she said quietly. "We had better have our lunch." Loki followed his friends back to the suddenly quiet Hufflepuff table. 

~oOo~

All the houses had their Quidditch tryouts scheduled for this weekend: Hufflepuff and Gryffindor on Saturday, Ravenclaw and Slytherin on Sunday. Loki had not slept very well on Friday night, in spite of the calming sachet under his pillow, but he got up early with a large contingent of Hufflepuffs going to watch the tryouts, which were to be held after breakfast. 

He wasn't very hungry, either, so he spent most of breakfast pretending to re-read the letter his parents had sent him with Bronwyn late last week. He was a bit surprised by the length of it: with two sons at Hogwarts, Loki had assumed his parents would write one letter for Thor to share with him, or perhaps include a message to him at the end of Thor's letter. Apparently they realized better than he had how difficult it would be for brothers in different years and different houses to spend any time together. 

The letter had been written mostly by Mum, asking questions about his classes and the new friends he had described, and how Bronwyn was liking the other owls. Bindi had added a little postscript at the end, in her spidery handwriting. She had found a new Muggle sport called "ice hockey" that was nearly as fast as Quidditch, but with a great deal more crashing into each other, and she hoped there would be games for them to watch together when he came home at Christmas.

And just above Bindi's few lines was a section, a few inches long, in Dad's big square script. It ended:

 _Congratulations on being Sorted into Hufflepuff. Pomona Sprout is a very sound witch, and I know you will be happy there._

Loki read that bit several times, wondering what Dad meant by it. Knowing how Thor felt about Hufflepuff, did this mean Dad thought he couldn't cope with a more challenging house? Was Dad _really_ pleased about this result, or was he hiding his disappointment, knowing Loki was apt to have another crying fit at any hint of criticism? 

He was getting himself into a bit of a state as he thought about it, when George poked him. At the end of the table, Rogers had gotten to his feet with the other Quidditch hopefuls. Loki pocketed his letter and followed the other Hufflepuffs toward the Quidditch pitch. 

The tryouts were closed to other houses, as well as they could be with the pitch so large and visible from various windows of the castle. The Hufflepuff spectators, students of all years, scrambled into the stands to watch and cheer indiscriminately for everyone's good plays.

Rogers was the team captain, of course. He was in sixth year and had been captain since his third, which Becky explained was very unusual, but Hufflepuff had had some really terrible teams in the preceding years and Rogers, the keeper, had been the only bright spot. The team's fortunes had improved quite a lot since Rogers became captain, and they had finished second in the tournament last year. 

There were no first-years trying out-- they were officially allowed to, but were almost never selected, and none of this year's class could fly well enough anyway. Loki didn't yet know any of those trying out, but he thought there were some very promising prospects, and it was fun to watch them all skimming about. 

Madame Hooch finally blew her whistle, signaling the end of Hufflepuff's time on the pitch. The spectators began to trickle away to lunch. Loki would have gone, too, except he realized the Gryffindor team was coming onto the pitch already. The Head Girl, Potts, was shepherding younger students up into the stands to watch, and Loki suddenly made a decision. 

"I'm going to ask Potts if I can stay and watch Gryffindor," he told his friends. "Maybe she'll let me-- "

"She might let you, but she won't let us," Mitchell said decidedly. "We'll see you back in the common room, yeah?"

"Okay," Loki agreed. As his friends walked away, he went over to Potts. 

"Hello," she said pleasantly. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm Loki Odinson," Loki explained. "Thor's brother. I was wondering... could I watch some of the tryouts? I haven't seen much of Thor since-- I'd like to-- " _Watching him fly is better than not seeing him at all._

Potts was looking doubtful, perhaps suspecting he was a clever spy. A lump rose in Loki's throat, and he took a step backward. 

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I'll just-- "

"No, no, it's all right," Potts said quickly, looking very hard at his face. "Go on up into the stands."

"Thank you," Loki beamed. 

"Well, just don't be telling everyone what you see here today," Potts warned half-heartedly. Loki nodded eagerly, looked up at the spectators. There was a cluster of first-years sitting near the top of the stands. Clint was among them. Loki waved-- Clint didn't seem to notice-- and started toward the tall wooden staircase. 

As he reached the bottom of the steps, a hand fell on his shoulder like an eagle owl on a mouse, jerking him back. 

"What are _you_ doing here?" Volstagg demanded, swinging Loki around and glaring down at him. Loki gaped up at him, badly startled and suddenly very aware of the difference in their sizes. 

"I'm just going to-- I asked if I could-- " Loki faltered, as Thor walked up with the rest of the team. Volstagg let go of him as his brother approached.

"What is it?" Thor asked-- and then he saw Loki and his face went hard. "What do you want?"

"I asked if I could watch you," Loki again started to explain. 

"So you could spy for your new friends?" Thor demanded. Loki started to deny it, but broke off with a yelp as Thor grabbed him. He might have intended to get a handful of Loki's blue pullover, but his fingers dug hard into Loki's bony shoulder as he jerked him forward. "Get out of here," Thor ordered. 

"Odinson, what are you _doing?"_ an angry voice demanded, and for a second Loki thought it was directed at him. Someone caught him around the chest, quite gently, and pulled him away from Thor. Above his head the voice of Rhodes, the seventh-year prefect from the train, went on, "If I _ever_ catch you -- "

Potts came running over, looking really angry. "What's going on here?"

"Spy," Hogun said shortly, jerking his head at Loki. 

_"Little brother,"_ Potts flashed. "He just wanted to see Thor fly."

"And tell the Hufflepuffs all about our practice," Thor argued. "You know how they stick together."

"Yes," Potts said distinctly. "I do. And I know Rogers wouldn't stoop to spying, and that he knows perfectly well this year's team is probably going to be nearly the same as last year's. _Unless someone gets kicked off."_ Her blue eyes were icy as she stared Thor up and down. 

"And," said Rhodes, who wore the captain's _C_ on his robes, "if I ever get wind of you treating a first-year-- or anyone else-- like this again, I can guarantee that'll happen. As it is, you just lost Gryffindor ten points."

Thor looked at Loki as if he really did hate him. "He's my own brother," he grumbled. 

"Twenty points, then," Potts snapped. As Sif opened her mouth to argue, Potts glanced around at Thor's friends and added, "I would really, _really_ advise you all to shut up-- unless you want me to add the word _each."_ Sif subsided, glaring at Loki. Potts reached out and, as Rhodes let go of Loki, put her arm around his shoulders. "Come on," she said, in a tone that managed to somehow be both imperious and comforting at the same time. 

Loki kept his eyes on the ground as she walked him off the pitch. 

~oOo~

"What happened?" Mitchell asked, as Loki came sliding through the entry to the Hufflepuff common room. "Potts didn't let you-- ?"

Loki ignored him, slipped through the round door, and ran down the hall to their empty dormitory. His bed was in the corner, and Loki ducked into the space between it and the wall, curled up with his hands over his mouth. 

_Thor hated him._ Hated him, hated him. Loki didn't know if it was because Thor didn't want a brother who wasn't good enough for Gryffindor, or if he thought Loki had turned his back on the family house on purpose, but Thor definitely _hated_ him, and Loki didn't know what to do about it. Was there anything he _could_ do? 

Probably not, Loki admitted to himself. He remembered Professor Sprout's words, the night of the Sorting, about how your house would become _like your family_ at Hogwarts. Clearly Thor believed that, and he didn't want his _other_ family, or at least not his stupid Hufflepuff brother, to interfere with that. 

Loki hugged his knees desperately. He couldn't... he didn't want to... But if Thor didn't want _him_ , it wasn't like Loki could make him change his mind, could he? 

He was still going around and around on that idea when he heard something completely unexpected: the door of the dormitory opening. 

"Loki?" George called, sounding worried. "Are you in here?"

Loki froze, and then went smaller, pressing his forehead into his knees. Nobody _ever_ came _looking_ for him--

"Of course he's in here," Mitchell said impatiently. "Loki? Please come out."

And then incredibly, Annie's voice-- what was _she_ doing in the _boys'_ dormitory?-- said, "He must be-- " There was the quick scuffle of feet coming closer, and suddenly Annie's voice said, right next to him, "Hi, Loki."

He looked up. Annie was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, looking worriedly at him. 

"I don't think you're supposed to be in here," he whispered stupidly. 

"Probably not," Annie agreed. "But you're not supposed to be all alone when you're upset about something, either. What happened?" 

There was a creaking sound from his bed as George and Mitchell crawled onto it to look down at him. Loki looked around at two anxious sets of brown eyes and one of blue, and sniffled. 

"It's your brother, isn't it?" Annie asked, and Loki nodded miserably. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Loki sniffled. "Not really," he said. 

"Okay. Do you want us to stay here with you, until you feel like coming back out?"

Loki nodded again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** Repercussions and other things. Also, I made up a revision to a textbook so Fury can make a point. 
> 
> **Warnings:** None officially needed, but it's not a happy chapter. Also, this is my AU and Fury can believe anything I want him to believe.

On Monday morning, just before Defense Against the Dark Arts, Jane told Loki that Darcy had told her that Natasha had told _her_ that Clint had said Thor had gotten detention for roughing up his little brother on Saturday. 

"He did?" Loki asked, his heart sinking. 

"Yeah. And then there was a house meeting, and all the prefects yelled at everybody about picking on people smaller than they were, and shaming Gryffindor, and then Professor Coulson gave Thor and Volstagg detention and told them he was completely disgusted with them. I guess it was pretty awful." 

"My brother is never going to forgive me," Loki said numbly. 

Jane looked uncomfortable. "I don't know about your brother, but… Darcy seems to think you should probably stay away from Clint, at least for the time being."

Before Loki could think of anything to say to that, Professor Fury came sweeping in, and the class fell silent.

Professor Fury had already told them his class wouldn't feature much practical work in the first term: he felt they needed a solid grounding in other courses, especially Charms, before there was much point in trying to teach them how to block unfriendly spells like hexes. Even so, the theory and history were very interesting: Professor Fury had been an Auror for years, retiring after the Second Wizarding War and eventually taking up the post at Hogwarts, and he illustrated his lectures with fascinating-- not to say frightening-- stories. 

"Your textbook, which has been assigned to all years, is a revised edition," Professor Fury was saying now. "Can anyone tell me what that means? Mr. Banner?"

"It means there have been changes to the book since the last time it was published," Bruce said promptly. 

"Right. Five points to Ravenclaw. Now, the publisher could have just as easily changed the edition number and said no more about it, but instead the designation _revised_ is used, to make everyone aware there have been changes to the content. Does anyone happen to know what those changes are?" There was silence. Finally, Loki put his hand up. "Mr. Odinson?"

"There's a new chapter about Dementors," Loki said. 

"Yes. Five points to Hufflepuff." Professor Fury tapped on the cover of the book. "This edition reflects the wizarding world's admission that Dementors-- which for years served as the guards in Azkaban, the _wizards'_ prison-- are Dark creatures. Everybody always knew that, of course, but we fooled ourselves into thinking that it was all right because they were _on our side,_ and anyway they were only torturing _criminals."_ Fury looked around the room, as if expecting someone to argue that torturing criminals was perfectly fine. Whether any of the students actually believed that or not, nobody was stupid enough to say it, not with Professor Fury looking the way he did.

"Dark wizardry isn't just trying to rule over Muggles, or steal power in the wizarding world," Professor Fury said quietly. "It's not just hurting _innocent_ people. It can also be deciding that someone doesn't deserve any rights or protections at all, no matter what they did before-- especially if they're powerless. It's deciding that, because we're the _good guys,_ we have the right to do anything we want to the _bad guys._ What we-- the _good guys_ \-- had to learn the hard way is, there have to be _limits,_ and there have to be _rules._

"I don't just mean laws. I mean the kind of rules you carry around inside of you. I mean that, if you aren't behaving any better than the _bad guys,_ you can't truthfully call yourself a _good guy._ Some of the Darkest witches and wizards I've ever met didn't think they were working for Voldemort, but the way they behaved in positions of power actually helped his side. Letting the Dementors torture prisoners in Azkaban didn't make the wizarding world one bit safer, but it _did_ make a lot of people think it was okay to abuse their power over others, to the point where it became really hard, sometimes, to tell one side from the other."

Professor Fury paused, looking around the classroom. "A lot of witches and wizards think we can't learn much from the Muggles, but they have always had the best poets. One of those poets wrote that _the greatest treason/ Is to do the right deed for the wrong reason._ You can just as easily reverse that: it isn't any better to do the _wrong_ deed for what you tell yourself is the _right_ reason. There are times when you do what you've got to do, for instance if you're actively defending yourself, or someone else, from danger. But when you are safe and have time to think about your decisions, the decisions you make show _everyone_ which side you're on. 

"And that, as much as the fact they joined Voldemort's side in the last war, is why the Dementors don't guard Azkaban anymore. Because doing evil to fight evil just ends up creating more evil."

There was a very long silence. Finally, Jane put her hand up. Fury nodded to her.

"Miss Foster?"

"Sir, can… can you tell if someone is evil just by _looking_ at them?"

Loki froze. She couldn't mean _him._ There was no reason for her to be thinking about _him_ , there _wasn't_ , she didn't _know_ \--

Professor Fury was shaking his head. "No, Miss Foster." Loki tried not to look like he had been holding his breath, but then Professor Fury went on, "I can usually smell evil, though." He paused, glaring around the room. Loki suddenly wasn't the only one holding his breath. "Right now, for instance, all I smell is parchment, old wooden desks, and a bunch of little kids who play with owls and should probably take a bath tonight."

It wasn't a very funny joke, but everyone was grateful for the excuse to laugh. 

~oOo~

Just as Jane had warned, Clint made a point of avoiding Loki in Herbology after break that morning. Thor had said the Hufflepuffs _stuck together,_ but really all the houses did, you could hardly help it when you spent all your time with the same group of people. Loki was therefore pretty sure all the Gryffindor first-years would be just as mad at him as Clint was, for getting a popular student like Thor into trouble. 

If Professor Sprout knew what was happening, she didn't let on: as usual, she instructed the class to break up into small groups-- of four, this time-- two Hufflepuffs working with two Gryffindors. Mitchell moved up next to Loki as Annie paired off with George. Loki expected Professor Sprout or Mr. Longbottom to have to direct a pair of Gryffindors to join them, but a curly-haired girl named Peggy and a tall one named Maria came right over. 

"Can we work with you?" Peggy asked, looking determined. 

"Sure," Mitchell replied, with a grim little smile. 

Peggy and Maria acted almost normal, but it was still an intensely uncomfortable class. Loki got the impression there was a split among the Gryffindors, which surprised him. It was clear that Peggy and Maria, and maybe some of the others, didn't feel the way Clint did at all. 

He said as much to his friends as both houses scattered after class. 

"I don't understand it," he admitted. 

George shrugged. "Maybe your brother isn't quite as popular as you think he is." His voice was sharp: Loki had finally told them, on Saturday night, what had happened between himself and Thor, and George was still mad about it.

Loki glared at his friend, and Annie spoke up hastily. "Really, it's not hard to see why they don't all support Thor. He got into trouble for picking on a smaller kid, and the prefects-- including the _Head Girl_ and the _Quidditch captain_ \-- and Professor Coulson are all disgusted with him. I mean, they're _Gryffindor_ \-- they're supposed to be _brave."_

"And chivalrous," Mitchell contributed. 

"It's not exactly a Gryffindor thing, to beat up a kid half your size-- " George said.

"He didn't _beat me up,"_ Loki protested. 

"We've seen the bruise," Mitchell replied flatly. "Anyway, sure Thor is popular, but I bet a lot of the house looks up to the prefects, too, especially Rhodes, and _they're_ saying Thor was in the wrong."

"I should never have-- " Loki began miserably. 

"Maybe not," Mitchell agreed. "But you didn't know your brother would get that mad, and anyway Potts gave you permission. It's not your fault that your brother's a jerk." Loki glared again, and Mitchell said stubbornly, "Well, he is. Or at least he's _acting_ like a jerk right now." 

Loki pressed his lips together in a thin line and stared after Clint, who was walking into the castle behind the other Gryffindors, his robe flapping sadly around his ankles. 

"I have to go talk to him," Loki decided, and without waiting for his friends to reply he sprinted to catch up. "Clint? Hey Clint, wait a minute." 

Clint-- and the rest of the Gryffindors-- stopped walking, but he didn't turn around as Loki came trotting up behind him. 

"Clint? Look, I'm really sorry about what happened on Saturday," Loki began, and then reconsidered his words. Saying "what happened" sounded like he thought he had nothing to do with it. Dad and Professor Fury would both be scornful of an apology that started that way, let alone all these Gryffindors. He tried again: "I mean, I'm sorry I got Thor into trouble. I never meant to do that. I shouldn't have asked to watch your tryouts-- I wasn't going to tell anybody anything, I swear, I just wanted-- "

Clint turned at that, and the look on his face made Loki take a step backward. 

"You _wanted,"_ Clint snarled, his face red and his eyes sparkling with anger. In a high-pitched singsong that reminded Loki of Fandral, Clint repeated, _"'I just waaanted.'"_ Back in his normal voice, Clint went on, "And you _always_ get _everything_ you want, don't you, you spoiled little _crybaby-- "_ Even as he wilted under Clint's venomous words, Loki wondered how the other boy knew about that. Maybe he was only guessing-- "with your own _owl_ and your nice new _books_ and-- "

Loki put his hands up, and he wasn't sure if he was trying to make Clint stop talking, or just protect himself from the words. "Please, Clint-- "

_"'Please, Clint,'"_ Clint sneered, and Loki would have punched him then, just to stop him making that _noise_ , except for the tears he could see in the other boy's eyes. "Just because _you've_ always had _everything,_ you have to go and _ruin things_ for other people-- "

That sounded… that sounded like maybe Thor wasn't allowed to hang around with Clint anymore, or something. And just for a second Loki felt a vicious stab of satisfaction-- _Can't show off how nice you are to firsties now, Thor_ \-- before the feeling turned into horror at himself for thinking such a thing. What was the _matter_ with him?

And then he remembered Clint on the train, looking longingly at all the food Loki and his friends had with them, and how dirty and shabby Clint's clothes had been before he got into Gryffindor, and Clint's own brother putting hexes him and saying he'd never speak to Clint again unless Clint got into Slytherin--

And he, Loki, had messed everything up, and now Clint had _nothing--_

"I'm really sorry," Loki said quietly, starting to back away. "I didn't mean to do any of it."

"Just _stay away_ from me," Clint snapped, also backing away, toward the other Gryffindors. And right now it didn't matter whether they thought Thor had been in the wrong or not, because of course they opened ranks to accept Clint back in, and that was actually a relief because if Loki had ruined _that_ for him _too--_

And that was where it probably would have ended, except just then the corridor filled with older students hurrying to their classes. Loki didn't want to meet Thor right now, on top of everything else, but he was so busy looking out for Gryffindors that it never crossed his mind to watch out for Slytherins, too. 

Which was a mistake, because suddenly there was a boy in Slytherin robes walking up to Clint, face set and angry. This boy was about Thor's age but nowhere near as tall. He was still a lot bigger than Clint, and there was a sort of wiry, ratty meanness in his face that made Loki want to avoid his notice. 

Not that there was much chance of the boy paying any attention to Loki when his whole attention was focused on Clint. This had to be Clint's older brother, the one who thought it was funny to hex him.

"Not such a big shot now, are you?" the older boy taunted. "Where's your bodyguard now?" 

Loki glanced around, hoping to see a prefect or a teacher, and Peggy, the curly-haired Gryffindor girl, reached out to Clint. 

"Come on, Clint, let's go back to the common room," she said. 

Clint's brother glared at her and kind of struck at her hand. "Shut up when I'm talking to my brother, you stupid little mudblood."

Loki froze-- he had never actually heard anyone _say_ that word before-- and quickly glanced at George. He was relieved to see that, while his friend obviously realized it was a bad word, he clearly didn't know exactly what it meant. Loki had no idea whether Peggy was Muggle-born or not and probably Clint's brother didn't, either-- it was just the worst thing he could think of to call her. 

And as if all that wasn't bad enough, especially since Peggy looked like she was squaring off to stand up to Clint's brother, which anyone could tell was the worst idea imaginable--

_"What_ did you call her?" 

And there, of course, was Thor. 

Clint's brother turned around with a sneer and repeated the word. Thor-- who had a quick temper at the best of times-- promptly drew his wand and shouted, _"Langlock!"_

Clint's brother had also drawn his wand, but it didn't do him any good since he clearly didn't know enough non-verbal magic to hex Thor back with his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His face went purple with frustrated rage, but none of the gathered students laughed: both Barton and Thor looked murderously angry. Thor put his wand away as the other boy advanced on him, clearly ready to finish this with fists if Barton couldn't fight him with magic. 

_"Finite incantatem!"_

Loki was pushed out of the way as the Head Boy, Stark, stormed into the middle of things, using a counter-spell to remove the tongue-tying jinx. He pointed at Thor-- with his finger, not his wand-- and then Barton. 

"Stay right where you are, both of you." Looking completely disgusted, he turned to Thor and added, "Not you again. What is the _matter_ with you this year, Odinson?" Barton, Loki noticed, just got a quick, angry glance that looked tired more than anything. Apparently Clint's big brother was already known as a troublemaker.

Thor set his jaw, glanced at the first-year Gryffindors, and then glared at the floor without answering. Stark, obviously giving him a chance, repeated, "Odinson? What's going on?"

Thor continued to say nothing, and none of the other Gryffindors spoke, either. Since Thor had drawn his wand first it was obvious who was going to get punished if nobody explained what had happened, and that wasn't _fair._ Loki could just see Thor thinking that of course a Slytherin prefect was going to favour his own house, and--

\-- And Loki remembered Stark, on the train, cheerfully laying out his plans for making their first trip to Hogwarts easier for Muggle-borns, and teasing Becky like she was a friend even though she was a brand-new prefect and a Hufflepuff, and being perfectly nice to a first-year student too stupid to realize trunks were supposed to be taken to the baggage car. 

If nobody said anything-- and it looked like nobody was going to-- Stark was going to make a big mistake and punish Thor a lot worse than he deserved. And Thor would probably believe it was because Stark was in Slytherin with Barton, and that wasn't fair to either of them, and-- 

"He called Peggy a mudblood," a voice next to Loki's ear said suddenly. 

Stark turned around sharply. Loki gulped. The voice was his. 

"What was that?" Stark asked, his voice not quite so hard, as if he wanted to make sure Loki understood Stark wasn't angry at him. 

Well, in for a Knut, in for a Galleon--

"He called Peggy a mudblood," Loki repeated. "Him," he clarified, nodding toward Clint's brother. It was too complicated, to explain what had led up to that, so Loki didn't try. "And Thor heard him and… got mad."

Stark's face, which had been very red, had by now gone pale. He turned to Thor first, putting his wand away as he did. 

"How about it, Odinson? That pretty much what happened?" 

"Yes," Thor said sullenly, staring at the marble floor. 

Stark inhaled hard through his nostrils, the way Mum did when she was trying to keep her temper. "Barton?" 

"What if I did?" Clint's brother sneered. 

"We've talked about this," Stark said, his voice hard again. "And Professor Slughorn has talked to you about it. And Barton, I'm about through talking. See me in the common room at a quarter after six tonight-- by then I'll know what your detention is going to be. Do not be one second late, and do not do anything to make me angrier between now and then. Now get out of my sight." Barton, surprisingly, melted away without another word, apparently deciding he had pushed Stark, and his luck, as far as he dared. 

Most of the rest of the onlookers also began to drift away as Stark, rubbing his temples, turned back to Thor. "Don't hex people, no matter how angry you are at them, or how badly they're behaving. Just… don't. We'll call this fair warning." And then he looked at Peggy. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Peggy replied, her face set. "I know better than to let someone like _that_ upset me."

Stark gave her a lopsided smile. "You _did_ end up in the right house. I'm very sorry that happened. The only people who make a fuss about blood statuses are the ones who don't have much else going for them." He glanced around, as if looking for someone else, and spotted Loki. "Thanks, kid. I would have hated to make that mistake." Gesturing to everyone remaining to go about their business, Stark walked away. 

"Loki," George whispered, behind him, "what is a _mudblood?"_

Loki didn't answer, because Thor was walking over to him with an unreadable expression on his face. He let himself start to hope-- maybe Thor would realize Loki only wanted… Maybe he'd be glad his brother had spoken up for him…

Thor stopped a few paces away from Loki and said, in a savage undertone, "I do _not_ need to be _rescued_ by _Hufflepuffs."_

He said _Hufflepuffs_ in almost exactly the same tone as Barton had said _mudblood._

Loki felt himself going hot all over again, but this time it wasn't with shame or humiliation. 

This time, he was just purely angry. 

He couldn't think of a word to say to his brother, and he probably would have burst into tears if he had tried. Instead, he turned to Clint, who was still standing there. 

"You want him? He's all yours," he spat, and ran out of the castle toward the owlery, with his friends on his heels.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** I noticed in the movie version of  Half-Blood Prince that Hermione sometimes wore trousers with her uniform, so I'm going to assume that applies to girls at the upper levels. Also, I admit to having a fairly rosy interpretation of some characters-- I like to believe lessons were learned in the wake of the previous wars. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Okay, a while back I said we were about done with angst, but I think I may have lied. The worm is beginning, as they say, to turn, but there's no guarantee he'll enjoy it.

There was, obviously, a whole lot more fallout from the _mudblood_ incident than there had been from the one at the Quidditch tryouts. On Tuesday morning, when Hufflepuff had double Transfiguration with Slytherin, Darcy and Ian reported that Professor Slughorn had taken away twenty house points from Clint's brother, Barney Barton. 

"And he would have taken more, if Barton cared one bit about the house," Darcy said. 

"Why did he take any, if Barton doesn't care?" Annie asked. 

"As a warning to the rest of the house," George guessed, and the two Slytherins nodded. 

"Exactly," Ian said. "And he's got detention for a month, and he's lost the first trip into Hogsmeade."

"Wow," Mitchell murmured. "Good for Slughorn."

"And then we had a house meeting and Professor Slughorn told us all that he'd lived through two terrible, wasteful wars caused by exactly the attitude... that word... expresses, and he had always hoped to see Slytherin live it down," Darcy said. "It was awful. I would much rather he had yelled at us."

"I thought he was going to cry," Ian admitted. 

"Well, I mean, my Dad was in Slytherin just after the first war, and he says there were a lot of Dark types getting Sorted there even in his time. It was like everything bad about Slytherin kind of came to the top in those years. I suppose all the houses go through something like that every hundred years or so," Darcy shrugged. 

"Although it's hard to imagine what Dark Hufflepuffs would be like," Ian said, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. 

"They push their way to the front of queues," Darcy replied quickly, just as Professor Coulson walked into the classroom. 

In fact, Slytherin wasn't the only house to have a meeting in the aftermath of the incident. Loki later heard that Gryffindor and Ravenclaw did, too. And Professor Sprout called everyone into the common room, where she very quietly and seriously talked about the harm that had been done in the past by people who were obsessed with the "pureness" of wizarding blood, and then about the contributions of people who came from Muggle backgrounds. 

"I am sure I don't need to say this," she finished up, "because I know this is a good house full of good people, but attitudes like that are the opposite of everything we value here in Hufflepuff."

Loki had sat on the floor with a cluster of first-years and listened attentively, but a part of him wondered if his real parents were in Azkaban because of ideas just like the ones Professor Sprout was describing. 

Natasha didn't sit with Loki and his friends anymore. On Tuesday she had come up to Loki as the students entered the class and told him, perfectly calmly and quietly, that she liked him and she was very sorry, but she was Clint's friend and so she couldn't be his right now. 

Loki had been expecting that, of course, and the funny thing was that having her just come right out and say it hurt a lot less than it would have if she had pretended she wasn't cutting him off. And the really weird thing was, Natasha didn't seem to mind at all that the other Slytherins were still friendly with him and his housemates. 

"This has nothing to do with houses," Natasha shrugged. "Clint isn't friends with the other Slytherins. Only me."

Loki found himself wondering whether Clint was going to be _allowed_ to keep on being friends with Natasha, but he didn’t ask, because the thought made him so angry he felt hot all over.

Over the next few weeks Loki stayed away from Thor, and Thor and his friends-- including Clint, who still seemed to be their mascot-- stayed away from Loki. The coolness didn't really affect the relationships between the two houses, since Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had been friendly for about a thousand years before Loki was born and it would take more than this to make a big difference, but the first-years were a little careful around each other. 

It didn't make things as unpleasant for Loki as it might have, because at least the Hufflepuff first-years were all friends with each other. That was both comforting and handy, since everyone seemed to be good at different classes and they helped each other with their schoolwork. Pippa, who still treated broomsticks like ponies, turned out to be much the best flyer in the class and before long all the first-year Hufflepuffs were patting their brooms and calling them "good girl" just like she did. 

She and Dennis had never been around owls before they came to Hogwarts, and both of them liked to join Loki, Annie, George and Mitchell when they went to play with Bronwyn. 

"Is it hard to learn to take care of an owl?" Dennis asked, as he threw the sock-ball (which Loki had made out of the ruined socks from the first day) across the lawn and they all watched Bronwyn swoop, hover, and then drop talons-first upon her hapless prey. By this time she had worked out that her prey would only flee again if she brought it back to be thrown some more, so she snatched up the socks and flew back to Loki, ignoring Dennis's outstretched arm. 

"Not very hard," Loki said, handing him back the socks. "There are some good books at Flourish and Blott's, or you could ask Mr. Cadwallader at Eeylops to suggest one. And lots of witches and wizards can give you advice." 

"Cool," Dennis said. "I guess it's like having a dog in the Muggle world, only they can carry your post."

"Did you ever have a dog?" Loki asked eagerly. He had always thought he would like to have a dog.

Bronwyn, as usual, declared the game over when she ignored the final sock-throw and flew back to the owlery. Loki stuffed the ragged bundle into his pocket and the group of friends started walking back to the castle. 

As they came up the path that led around the corner to the courtyard, they heard yelling and laughter. It wasn't the shrill sound of kids their own age, so Loki automatically slowed down and the first-years used a little caution as they came around the corner of the castle. 

There was a gang of older students in the middle of the courtyard-- Loki recognized several prefects-- laughing and hooting and yelling encouragement at Stark.

Who was pointing his wand at someone upside-down in the air, hanging as if by his left ankle, robe fallen down over his face and black-trousered right leg kicking. There was black-and-yellow edging on the collar of his gray jumper.

"Had enough, Rogers?" Stark called. 

Loki didn't even think about what he was going to do next before he did it. All of a sudden his wand was in his hand and he was charging up the path toward the laughing group, aware of the other first-years running with him, also with their wands out. 

He was so angry he could hardly see or hear anything, but just before he would have gone barreling into Stark from behind, Rogers' muffled voice cut through the roaring in his head:

"No, give me another minute. I've just got to get this stupid robe off, I can't see anything."

"When you think about it, it's not a practical way of dressing," Annie's sister Becky spoke up from the fringe of the group. 

"Okay," Stark said, "just yell if you need me to let you down. Oh, hey there," he added casually, as he noticed the rapidly approaching group of first-years. His eyebrows went up at the sight of their wands, and Loki hastily shoved his back into his pocket as he came to a halt. 

"Oh, great," Rogers said, purple-faced, as his robe went fluttering to the ground beneath him. "Exactly what I needed, a bigger audience." He tucked his legs together and did a sort of upside-down situp so he could see the others the right way around, then unfolded and looked rather mournfully at his wand, lying on the ground half-concealed by his robe. "Okay, I think I have the same problem again-- "

"Can you even _do_ an Accio charm without your wand?" one of the onlookers, a sixth-year Ravenclaw prefect, wondered. 

"Not so far," Rogers told him. 

"May I ask what you are doing?" asked a voice behind them. Everyone, including the first-years, jumped, and Stark flicked his wand at the same moment Becky raised hers and muttered, 

_"Spongify!"_

Rogers dropped to the ground, which was now soft, and bounced. It took him a moment to scramble to his feet. 

"Good afternoon, Professor Slughorn," Stark said innocently, shoving his wand into his robe. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stark," said Professor Slughorn as he walked toward the group. "What a very curious sight to meet my eyes, as I take my postprandial constitutional. I sincerely hope you were not doing what you appeared to be doing. I had the impression you and Mr. Rogers are good friends."

Stark looked genuinely horrified. "Oh no. Nononono. We were just playing around. Really, sir."

"Really," Rogers confirmed, looking surprisingly guilty for the person who had been jinxed. "Tony heard about a spell called Levicorpus, and it sounded like a pretty good defensive jinx, so I said we could try it on me. It's really kind of cool, professor, it's non-verbal and-- "

"I am familiar with the spell," Professor Slughorn said quietly, looking from one sheepish face to the next. 

"It really does work pretty well," Rogers went on nervously. "When you're jerked up in the air you almost always drop your wand-- at least I do, Standish hung onto his once, didn't you Standish-- ?"

"I beg your pardon?" Professor Slughorn asked. "Are you telling me that you have been taking turns to jinx each other?"

"Um, yes," said Potts, who Loki hadn't seen up to this moment. "Mostly Steve, to be honest-- "

"I get less seasick than the others, when I'm upside-down," Rogers explained. "But everyone's had a turn getting jinxed except Becky, because… skirt…" His face, which had faded back to its usual pinkness, went red again. 

"We've all had a go at casting it, though," Becky spoke up, with an air of confession. 

"And you all managed it? Non-verbally?" The older students all nodded. Professor Slughorn pursed his lips thoughtfully. "That is, I admit, a fine bit of spellwork. I hate to discourage it, but… You do promise that, except in cases of dire emergency, you will only practice it among yourselves, after everyone has agreed in advance? You won't use it to harass or embarrass other students, or frighten any of the younger ones? Honour bright?"

"Yes, sir," Stark replied quickly. There was nothing teasing about his manner now, as if Professor Slughorn's good opinion really mattered to him. Professor Slughorn considered for a moment longer, then nodded. 

"Very well," he said. "As long as you keep your word." The older kids were all nodding vigorously. The professor seemed to notice Loki and his friends for the first time. "Here to enjoy the show?" he asked genially. 

"Um," Mitchell muttered, speaking for everyone. 

"Actually, I think they were coming to Steve's rescue," Stark explained. "At least, they all had their wands out when they came running up." With a return to his usual manner, he added, "I don't know what they were planning to do-- tickle us, or something." 

Professor Slughorn raised his eyebrows. "Is that true?" he asked. Nobody answered. "Mr. Odinson?"

Loki gulped. "Well, we thought… it looked like… and we didn't see Becky-- Sawyer-- so we didn't know at first it was only a game. So, um-- "

"Loyal," Stark said, grinning now. "Not necessarily prudent." 

"I think that might be worth five points to Hufflepuff," said Professor Slughorn, with a smile. He was just turning to walk away when Rhodes spoke up:

"Sir? You said you were familiar with Levicorpus?" 

"Yes. It was not generally used in fun, when I came to know about it."

"Well, can you ever cast it at more than one person at a time? I mean, suppose a person was being attacked by a bunch of Dark sorcerers-- ?"

"I'm sure Professor Fury will be glad to hear that you are taking such concerns so seriously," remarked Professor Slughorn. "Are you asking for a demonstration?" Eager nods all around. "Very well. You might wish-- " he gestured at Becky and the first-years to move out of the way. 

Then he took out his wand and flicked it upward, all in a single smooth gesture. All the older students except Becky went flying up into the air. Most of them dropped their wands, and all of them shrieked in surprise. The professor let them hang a moment, then brought his wand sharply down and drew it sideways. All the airborne students went wafting gently to the ground like leaves falling from a tree. Professor Slughorn took a gracious bow, and then continued on his interrupted walk. 

Loki was very thoughtful as he and his friends continued on their way.

~oOo~

"You would have to be so good in Charms, to be able to do a spell like that," Loki said later that evening, as they all worked on their homework in the common room. He had his wand out and was trying to perform Wingardium Leviosa on a curl of parchment. So far he was only making it roll a little, and that could have been just stray breezes.

"What, that Levicorpus? Yeah," Mitchell agreed, looking up from his History of Magic essay. 

"I wonder if it takes a lot of energy to cast a spell to pick up something as big as a person," George went on thoughtfully. George was quite good at Charms, and had gotten his feather to lift up several inches in class already. 

"As big as Thor," Loki muttered to his curl of parchment. 

_I do not need to be rescued by Hufflepuffs._

"What was that?" Annie asked. 

"Nothing," Loki said. He imagined Thor kicking in the air, upside-down with his robe over his face, and smirked a little to himself. First, though, he would have to make this bit of parchment fly. 

~oOo~

"Yes, Mr. Odinson?" said Professor Slughorn, nodding toward Loki as he raised his hand. 

"Sir, we've been working on a potion that cures boils. I was just wondering… is there such a thing as a potion that _causes_ them?"

Professor Slughorn looked very hard at Loki, who tried to keep his expression innocently curious even though his stomach felt like it was filling with hot water. Finally, the professor replied, 

"As a matter of purely academic interest, yes, Mr. Odinson, there are such potions. They do not, however, form part of the curriculum here at Hogwarts, and we will not discuss them in this class." He continued to look hard at Loki, who nodded and lowered his eyes back to his cauldron. 

~oOo~

"What kind of a question was that?" Annie demanded at break, as the four friends walked down the corridor together. 

"What kind of a question was _what?"_ asked Loki, who knew perfectly well what Annie was talking about. 

"'Is there a potion that _causes_ boils?'" Annie reminded him. "Why on earth would you want to _cause_ boils?" 

"I never said that I did," Loki snapped. "I just wanted to know if there was such a thing. Now let's hurry up or we'll be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Yes, well, don't ask Professor Fury about potions to cause boils if you know what's good for you," Annie warned. 

"Right, as if I'd be stupid enough to do that," Loki sneered back. 

~oOo~

"Very nicely done, Mr. Odinson!" exclaimed Professor Flitwick, as Loki's feather floated high above the class. "An excellent demonstration of Wingardium Leviosa!"

Loki smiled, trying not to look smug, as he let the feather drift back down to the desktop. 

"I'm not surprised," Mitchell said, after class. "You've been working on practically nothing else for weeks. I had no idea you were so set on doing well in Charms."

"I want to do well in all my classes," Loki told him. 

"Which is why you've been ignoring your homework in every class _except_ Charms?" Mitchell said skeptically. 

"And Potions," Annie said quietly. "He's been working really hard in Potions, too."

"Is there something wrong with that?" Loki asked angrily. 

"No, it's just-- "

"What's the matter? Scared I'll end up doing better than you?" Loki demanded, horrified by the nastiness in his tone. 

"You were trying to do Wingardium on an empty ink bottle last night," George spoke up. Loki whirled to face him, with the choking feeling that everybody was turning on him. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak George went on, "And you keep looking at the last chapters of the Potions book, the part that talks about the really nasty ones. What are you planning, Loki?"

"Nothing!" Loki almost shouted, pushed past his friends, and ran outside toward the owlery. 

None of them followed him. 

~oOo~

The dormitory was dark and quiet. Loki could hear everyone else breathing gently in their sleep. He lay on his side, back to the door, curled up in a ball wishing he dared get out of bed and fetch his floppy rhinoceros from the drawer in the wardrobe. He had never noticed how threatening the shadows were, here in the Hufflepuff dormitory at night. He had always thought this was such a safe place even when it was dark, but now it seemed like anything could be lurking in the corners. 

To dispel the unpleasant thoughts, Loki pulled the covers over his head and started to make up stories. Next week was the Halloween feast, and everyone would be at the house tables. Loki pictured himself sitting at the Hufflepuff table, with all his friends around him. (He ignored the stab of pain as he recalled that he was hardly even talking to Annie right now, and George and Mitchell were so uncomfortable around the two of them that they usually just went off and worked together.) 

_Don't think about that._ He was at the Hufflepuff table, and people talked to him, and… liked him again. And then Thor said… said something _stupid_ about _Hufflepuffs,_ and Loki pulled out his wand, and a whole bowl of mashed turnips flew through the air and dumped themselves over Thor's head, and _everyone_ was _laughing_ at _him--_

Quidditch was starting in two weeks, and Gryffindor would play Hufflepuff. And Thor would be playing Beater for Gryffindor, because of course they still let him play, and he hit a Bludger right at Rogers, even though you weren't supposed to hit the Bludger at the other team's Keeper unless the Quaffle was in scoring position, because Thor thought it didn't matter, what he did to _Hufflepuffs._ And then Loki cast a jinx that made Thor's broom swerve around like a wild Hippogriff, and Thor fell off, and _everyone_ laughed at him-- 

_The walls and the floor were dark stone, mossy and damp and ice-cold under Loki's bare feet. There was one window, high in the walls, so high Loki wouldn't be able to see the sky again for years and years, not until he was a grownup, and even then only if he was very tall. The door to the cell was solid oak but there was a smaller one set in the bottom, so the guards could open it and push food through-- when they remembered._

_Loki sat on the stone floor, in the corner, shivering and watching the darkness flow in through the window to fill the cell. The corners were full of nasty things that glided and fluttered and waited for Loki to turn his back on them, for him to go to sleep._

_And then he realized that one corner of the cell was darker than all the others, deeper, and there was… there was something in there. Two sets of eyes, that glittered in the dark as they watched him, and got bigger as they crept closer and closer to him. Loki scrambled backward, but the cold stone stopped him. He clamped both hands over his mouth to smother the whimper trying to come out._

_"Don't be afraid," a voice said, raspy and thick, oozing toward Loki like a breath of foul air. "Why should you be afraid, when you are ours, you belong here-- "_

_"I don't," Loki squeaked, trying to make himself so small they would never be able to find him. "I don't belong here!"_

_"Of course you do, you don't think you belong in Hufflepuff, that is the nicest house, and now they know what you are they don't want you anymore."_

_"Of course they don't," a second voice agreed, the voice that belonged to the second set of eyes. "Of course they don't want you, you don't belong there, only good people belong in Hufflepuff, and you want to hurt your brother. You know you should be here, know what you're going to be, what you are already-- "_

_"I'm not! I'm not, I'm not!"_

_"You are. You are ours, Loki."_

"Loki!" 

Something was holding onto him, shaking him. Loki panicked, tried to lash out, but with the covers all pulled up around his head he couldn't get his hands free. He twisted and thrashed, and whatever was holding him tightened its grip. There was a weight on top of him and he couldn't breathe.

"Loki! Wake up!" 

Loki opened his eyes, found himself almost nose-to-nose with Mitchell, whose eyes were huge. The lamps were lit, and over Mitchell's shoulder he could see George, hovering. The other first-year Hufflepuff boys were all hanging back a few steps, scared and white-faced. 

"Hnnh?" Loki tried to say something, but he couldn't make any words come out. 

"You were having a bad dream," Mitchell said, sitting down nervously on the edge of the bed. "You sounded really scared." 

"I was… I was… " 

George turned and ran out of the room, coming back a minute later with a glass of water. Loki sat up, managed to steady his hands enough to take it. "Thank you," he mumbled, and gulped from it. 

"Do you want me to get someone?" George asked, fluttering his hands. Loki stared at him in confusion, and George went red. "Or not, I just-- "

"No, no, it's… thank you," Loki repeated. "I'm all right." No one looked convinced. Loki suspected he didn't, either. "I'm all right," he repeated, a bit shrilly, and drank the rest of the water. 

"Okay," Mitchell said, taking the empty glass from him. "Is it okay if we leave the lights on?" It took a second for Loki to realize Mitchell was speaking to him. 

"All right," he said in a small voice. 

"Okay," Mitchell said reassuringly, and turned to look at the rest of the group. "Let's all go back to sleep, yeah?"

"Okay," everybody muttered. 

But nobody did.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which something completely unprecedented (in Loki's experience) happens. 
> 
> Any of you who have read My Friend Flicka may have noticed similarities between the main character, Kennie, and all versions of Housemates!Loki. It wasn't deliberate, but the moment in this chapter that echoes Kennie's revelation that Flicka isn't loco, is.
> 
> **Warnings:** For another of my Infamous Talking Chapters (So. Much. Talking!) and also my own theorizing and headcanon about houses and history. Sorry, gang-- it's my party, and all that. 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry I haven't been consistently warning for potentially triggery content up to this point. I don't think there's anything obvious here.

The next day was Friday, and the first-year Hufflepuffs didn't have any classes except for their flying lesson before lunch. Loki didn't go to breakfast-- Mitchell and George offered to wait for him in the common room, but Loki told them to go ahead and he would catch up later. 

He waited until everyone else had gone to breakfast and the common room and dormitories were quiet. Then he got up and dressed. Instead of looking for his housemates, he went to the library, to hide at one of the little study desks in a corner, hidden away behind the tall book cases. 

He put his head down on his folded arms and closed his eyes. 

He didn't know how long he spent that way, drifting halfway between wakefulness and sleep. After a while he roused himself enough to look for a book about Transfiguration-- he had liked Transfiguration a lot, when the year started, even though it was hard-- and read for a while. 

It was only when he heard the bell ringing for lunch that he realized he had missed his flying lesson, one of the few things he still looked forward to at school. Feeling kind of sick, and quite a bit like he wanted to cry again _(spoiled little crybaby)_, Loki trailed back to the dormitory. He put his pajamas back on, got his rhinoceros out of the wardrobe-- he knew it was stupid and babyish for him to want it, but he _didn’t care--_ and crawled back into bed. He felt like he never wanted to get out of bed, ever again. 

It seemed like a long time later when the door of the dormitory creaked open. Loki closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He didn't want to talk to anyone, not even Mitchell or George, and he was pretty sure they didn't really want to talk to him either. 

"Hey." The voice didn't belong to either of his friends. "Loki?" 

Rogers never called him "Loki." The older and younger students mostly called each other by their surnames, except for Becky because she was Annie's sister and he thought he was probably still Annie's friend, at least for now.

Loki tried to pretend he was asleep, but Rogers put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Loki, wake up," he said quietly. There was no way he could keep pretending, so Loki opened his eyes. The prefect was sitting on Mitchell's bed, leaning forward to look at Loki. "Hey. Your friends tell me you didn't come to any meals today."

"I wasn't hungry," Loki muttered. 

"Not feeling well?" Rogers said sympathetically. "I also understand you had a pretty bad dream last night." Loki didn't answer. Rogers patted him. "Okay, I'm sorry to make you get up if you're feeling sick, but Professor Sprout wants to see you."

Loki sat straight up, not even caring if Rogers noticed he was sleeping with a floppy rhinoceros, his breath catching in his throat. "Professor Sprout?" he squeaked.

_She knows, she's found out, I'm going to be expelled, I'm going to be kicked out of Hufflepuff--_

Rogers smiled. "Yes. She asked me to find you and bring you down to Greenhouse One. She'd like to talk to you. Get dressed and I'll meet you in the common room in ten minutes."

~oOo~

It was later than Loki had realized. The shadows were getting long as he walked across the lawn with Rogers. The nocturnal owls were starting to emerge from the owlery, gliding and swooping across the sky above them. Ahead of them, Greenhouse One glowed like a half-covered lamp. 

Loki hung back as Rogers opened the door and stuck his head inside. 

"Professor Sprout? We're here."

"Oh, good. Come in, please, Mr. Odinson," came the voice of their head of house. Loki edged through the door. Professor Sprout was standing at a work table, surrounded by bags of earth, piles of fertilizer, empty clay pots, and a whole lot of small, ferny-looking plants in smaller pots that seemed to wrap their fronds around her fingers as she worked with them. 

Loki stood just beside the door, hands clasped in front of him, worrying against each other. Rogers patted him on the shoulder, excused himself, and slipped out the door. Professor Sprout smiled. 

"Please come and sit down," she said, in a firm, kind voice. "Right over there, where the tray is. I thought you might be hungry."

Loki looked at the covered tray, with the goblet and pitcher next to it, and his throat closed. He was hungry all right, but he was so nervous about what was going to happen next that he was sure he'd be sick if he tried to eat or drink. Professor Sprout was looking at him, so he went over to the stool where the tray was, and sat down. He didn't touch anything. 

"If you don't mind, I'll carry on with this repotting while we talk," she went on, glancing at him and then looking back down at her work. "I've been speaking to your friends." Loki looked up, dismayed, and Professor Sprout went on, "They're worried about you, Mr. Odinson, and to tell you the truth I am too."

"I'm sorry-- " Loki began instinctively, clenching his hands together in his lap. 

Professor Sprout looked up. "There's no need to apologize. But I would like us to talk a little, because I'm worried that something is bothering you. _Is_ there something bothering you?" 

"… No," Loki squeaked, lowering his eyes. Professor Sprout just kept talking:

"Because, you see, when a student's behaviour changes as much as yours has in the past few weeks, there's usually cause for concern. We've gotten to know you as a cheerful boy who is keen on his lessons and gets along well with the other students. And now you appear to have lost interest in most of your classes, you don't go around with the other students as much as you used to, and… you seem sad and worried." There was a period of silence, while Professor Sprout lifted yet another small, fluffy, clinging plant from a little pot and carefully settled it into a larger one. 

Then she went on, "I know there was an unfortunate incident with your brother a few weeks ago. At the time I thought it was an isolated occurrence, and so I didn't follow up with you after your brother was punished. Your friend Miss Sawyer now tells me there was a second incident a few days later. Is that true?"

He couldn't just refuse to answer, so he muttered, "I guess."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

And that was just too complicated, but he had to say _something_ , and he was too tired and felt too sick to make anything up. Before he realized what he was doing, Loki heard his own voice saying, 

"Thor doesn't like me."

And that was dumb, stupid. Loki waited for Professor Sprout to explain that _of course_ Thor loved him, really, and the way Thor treated him didn't really mean anything, that he was selfish and bad _(crybaby)_ to make a fuss about it. 

"He doesn't?" Professor Sprout asked. And something about… she _believed_ him, she didn't just tell him he was wrong… something about that made Loki go on. 

"Nobody likes me anymore," he whispered. Professor Sprout looked at him, as if she'd be sorry if that turned out to be true, but she didn't say anything, and finally Loki started to explain: "I got really angry at him, at Thor, he said… he said he didn't need to be _rescued_ by _Hufflepuffs,_ and I only… I just didn't want him to get in trouble with Stark, when Clint's brother said… when he called Peggy Carter… so I told Stark what Clint's brother said and that was why Thor was fighting him, and Thor didn't get in trouble but he got really... because I'm in _Hufflepuff_ and… and he didn't want…"

"That was unkind of him," Professor Sprout said, apparently talking to the little plant that was petting her fingers with its fluffy leaves. Loki wanted to reach over and touch the plant so it would pet him, too, but he kept his hands in his lap. Professor Sprout added, "If someone had said that to me, especially someone whose good opinion mattered to me, I would have felt hurt and very angry." Pause. She looked up. "Did _you_ feel hurt and angry?" Loki nodded. "Is that why you think that no one else likes you now?"

"I got… I was so _angry,"_ Loki explained, whispering again. "He was… he was _mean_ about us, about Hufflepuffs, and I… I was _angry_ and I started, I made up these stories, I told myself I was going to… going to do things to hurt him, make people laugh at him, and… and that's why no one likes me now."

"Because you got angry at your brother?" 

"Because I was… I wanted to…" Loki couldn't help it, he reached out and trailed a fingertip along one of the leaves of the tiny plant closest to him. The green frond wrapped delicately around his finger, hugging it, then gently let go. 

"Can you tell me about your dream, last night? Mr. Sands and Mr. Mitchell said it sounded quite frightening."

"I dreamed… I was… they put me in Azkaban, because I…" He could feel tears starting up in his eyes. "Hufflepuff is a _good_ house, for _good_ people, and Azkaban is-- and I, I wanted to hurt Thor so-- so they put me in-- "

By now he was crying again _(crybaby)_ and Professor Sprout came around the table and sat down on the stool next to his. She patted his shoulder with her dirty hand, then offered him a surprisingly clean white handkerchief, as big as Dad's. 

"Those things you wanted to do to your brother-- is that why you were trying to levitate the bottle, and asking about harmful potions?" _They had told her everything._ Loki wiped his eyes and nodded. "Ah. That's what worried your friends, you see. They thought you were spending too much time thinking about being angry, and about hurting your brother. They didn't think it was good for you. And then you had a terrible dream and it really scared them, and Miss Sawyer's sister brought them to speak to me." 

Loki wiped his nose and reached out toward the plant again, petting its leaves. In the softest whisper yet, he said, "I don't… I don't want to be Dark." 

Professor Sprout patted him on the shoulder again. "Well, then, don't be." Loki blinked, and the professor said matter-of-factly, "Whether you become Dark or not will be a matter of your own choices and actions. And, so far, I don't see any sign of it."

"No?" Loki squeaked-- he wanted to believe her so much that he just couldn't. 

"No. Oh, you're angry at your brother, and it sounds as if you have good reason to be. But so far you really haven't done anything except make yourself unhappy, have you?" 

"I made my friends not like me," Loki reminded her. And then-- he couldn't stop himself-- he added: "Thor is mean to _me_ and everyone likes _him."_

Professor Sprout looked thoughtful. "Your friends went to Miss Sawyer's sister because they were worried about you, and they talked to me for the same reason. They didn't know how to make you feel better, but they wanted someone to help you. They wouldn't have been so concerned if they didn't like you." 

Loki thought about that, petting the little green plant as he did. Then he said, "But I was so _angry-- "_

"Goodness, Mr. Odinson, being angry doesn’t make you a Dark sorcerer," Professor Sprout said firmly. "And neither does _imagining_ doing something to a person who hurt you. I agree that if you spend too much time brooding about revenge, it's bound to do you harm eventually, but simply being angry and _thinking_ a little-- why, that's perfectly normal. Everyone does it."

_"You_ don't," Loki argued. "You're the _head_ of-- you're _good."_

"I do my best," said Professor Sprout. "But even so, there have been times… I remember, oh, it must be sixteen years ago, there was a new professor hired to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. I don't remember whether he was the only applicant, or if influence was brought to bear in his hiring, but he was _terrible._ Completely incompetent, tiresomely pleased with himself, and far too fond of telling the other professors how to teach their classes. He drove me _mad._ I used to imagine putting a _mimbulus mimbletonia_ at his place at dinner, a good mature one full of Stinksap, with a little note on it saying _Poke Me."_ She laughed. "I never _did_ it, of course."

Sobering, Professor Sprout went on, _"Imagining_ a trick like that was harmless. It would have been different if I had done it, especially in front of the students, or if I had brooded on how much I disliked him until I couldn't enjoy my work, or my friends, or have a peaceful sleep at night. And that is what concerns your friends and me about what you're doing right now: you're not hurting anyone but yourself, but we don't want you to do that, either. 

"I suppose it's possible that if you think about revenge for long enough, you'll actually do it, and I don't think you need me to tell you that hurting people because you're angry really is wrong, and really is the sort of thing a Dark sorcerer would do. But you haven't."

Loki shrank. "I have," he whispered, looking down at his hands. Professor Sprout waited, and he explained about the day last summer, when he followed Thor and got dragged out of the bushes and threw all those rocks at them with his magic. "I did that, so I _must_ be-- "

"On purpose?" asked Professor Sprout. 

"What?"

"Did you do it on purpose? Did you think, _I want to throw rocks at everyone,_ and then do it?"

"Well, no, but-- "

"And you were all by yourself?"

"Yes?"

"It must have been a very frightening situation, being alone with a group of older, bigger children who were angry at you, and then being grabbed by the throat. It's not at all uncommon for untrained wizards, especially very young ones, to do something drastic when they're as frightened as that. We call that _self-defense,_ Mr. Odinson. It's perfectly justifiable, it sounds as if it was involuntary anyway, and I suspect it's why your brother never told on you: he probably knew he was in the wrong for frightening you like that, instead of just telling you to go home and waiting for you to leave. He might even have felt ashamed of himself for losing his temper so badly. 

"No, I don't see any evidence that you're going to turn into a Dark wizard. I don't think you need to worry about that at all."

"But-- " He didn't _want_ to say it. He wanted to just _believe_ her, but-- "But... are there people who just...Who can't help it? Are born bad? Like... like Voldemort was..." 

Professor Sprout raised her eyebrows. "Oh, Mr. Odinson, Voldemort was a very unusual case. He chose to do terrible things, but he also... lacked the ability to perceive or imagine others as _real._ That was one of the reasons he was able to hurt so many people. Individuals like that are very rare in either the wizard or Muggle worlds. Most of us, even though we have times when we're sad or angry, still feel affection, and concern for other people's feelings, and we do our best not to hurt them and feel genuinely sorry when we do. Does that sound familiar?" 

Loki chewed his lower lip, hope beginning to bubble up in his chest. "Yes?" 

"All right-- that means you're quite normal. I'm sure you've made mistakes, and I'm sure you'll make more, just like I do, and your friends, and all the other teachers and prefects and your parents do. But you'll also do your best to correct them, and not make the same ones again, and make amends if you do hurt someone. Correct?"

"Yes," Loki replied, with more confidence this time. 

"Good. And that means you were not born bad, nor are you likely to become that way. It just means you have to work at being a good person, like all the rest of us do. Now, I really think you should eat something." Professor Sprout lifted the cover off the tray. "I hope you like chicken sandwiches."

Loki poured himself a goblet of pumpkin juice from the pitcher, and drank until his throat no longer felt sticky. Then he took half a sandwich from the plate on the tray and bit into it. He thought he hadn't tasted anything quite so good since the Welcoming Feast his first night at Hogwarts. 

Still, he had to ask:

"Professor Sprout? What is my detention going to be?"

She looked surprised. "Detention? Mr. Odinson, I thought we had established that you haven't done anything wrong. Why would I give you detention? Although-- after you've eaten your sandwiches, perhaps you'd help me with these plants while we talk a little more." 

Professor Sprout patted him again, shifted the nearest fluffy plant a little closer so it was easy to reach, and went around the table to go back to her work. Loki ate and drank, and then began to follow her example to carefully move the friendly little plants from the small pots into the bigger ones. 

"Now," she said, "since we've dealt with the question of whether you were somehow destined to be evil-- " she smiled at him, as if it was a joke between them, the idea that Loki could possibly be evil-- "we should also talk about your brother."

"My dad says he loves me, really, but I don't know if that's true," Loki blurted.

"I'm afraid I don't, either," Professor Sprout admitted. "And it's also quite likely _he_ doesn't. And since we can't know or control what he _feels,_ we need to concentrate for the moment on his _actions."_ She looked carefully at Loki and added, "I've known a great many brothers and sisters who disliked each other very much when they were young, and a lot of them became much better friends as they got older. Not all of them, but a lot.

"Now, I confess I don't know your brother very well outside of classes, but until this year he hasn't had a reputation for bullying younger students or members of other houses. That doesn't mean this is your fault, you understand," she added firmly, "it just means the problem is something other than simply _Thor enjoys being unkind to smaller children._ Which means the problem is more complicated, but also suggests that it can eventually be solved.

"However-- it isn't your job to solve it. I know Professor Coulson has written to your parents, although I admit I haven't yet asked him for details of those letters. I will speak to him, and we'll see how we can help your brother to see this behaviour toward you is harmful and wrong. I think it's best if any interactions between you are supervised by teachers for the time being, so I'm asking you to stay away from him as well as you can for now, and I know Professor Coulson will agree. I'll also speak to the Hufflepuff prefects about keeping an eye on you both, and ask Professor Coulson to have a word with the Gryffindors-- although really, I believe Rogers, Sawyer, and Potts, at least, have already agreed to something like this between themselves. We're fortunate in our prefects at the moment, I must say."

"Stark is really nice, too," Loki spoke up. "He helped me on the train, when I forgot what to do with my trunk. I was surprised-- " Loki broke off in confusion and went back to concentrating on the plant and pot before him. 

Professor Sprout looked at him. "Surprised that a Slytherin prefect would be kind?" Loki nodded, his face hot. The professor sighed. "May I ask where that idea came from?" 

Loki wriggled. "My brother... he doesn't like Slytherin."

"Well, no, I suppose he doesn't at that. Many Slytherins don't much care for Gryffindor, either. The two houses have been rivals for over a thousand years, after all, and while the House Cup is good for internal house unity, it certainly does lead to unfortunate divisions within the school. It's really best not to take such talk too seriously."

"But... the wars. Voldemort was-- "

"-- in Slytherin, yes. So was Professor Fury, and you know how he feels about the Dark Arts." Professor Sprout looked very seriously at the little plant in her hands, which seemed to be concerned for her state of mind and petted her fingers consolingly. "What you must remember, Mr. Odinson, is that the cardinal traits of each house aren't _all_ there is to the house, or its members. And you must also keep in mind that even those fundamental traits can be a good or a bad thing, depending on the circumstances and the state of the world. And the people themselves.

"Slytherin has produced some of the greatest and most adept Ministers for Magic our world has ever seen, and wherever you see a complicated undertaking being brought to a successful conclusion, you are likely to find a former Slytherin in charge. That's because Slytherin really does attract those who like politics, getting things done, being in charge. None of those traits are in themselves bad, and combined with strong principles and a kind heart, they can lead to tremendous good. I must say, I will be following Mr. Stark's progress, when he leaves school, with a great deal of interest.

"However, Voldemort also sought power, and spoke of wizards' superiority to Muggles and other magical races. Slytherins are not the only witches and wizards who believe in that last point, incidentally, but the business of power combined with it meant that his message was especially attractive to a particular kind of Slytherin. And, unfortunately, that not only meant former Slytherins were over-represented among his followers, it also meant those followers raised their children with the same kind of poisonous beliefs, which... I have never seen so many unpleasant students in Slytherin as I did in those days. Two generations, all but ruined. The actions of those people greatly damaged the reputation of the house, and Slytherins like Professor Fury and Professor Slughorn are working hard to repair it to this day. 

"Now, since the wars ended there has been a... revulsion, a turning away from Voldemort's beliefs. Most of his devoted followers are in prison or dead, and those who might remain at large are no longer so confident in speaking up about their anti-Muggle prejudices and the like. The first time Voldemort disappeared, his followers hoped he would return, and many continued to teach his beliefs to their children on the sly. Now, he's dead. He's gone, and his beliefs are badly out of favour. 

"That means the kind of Slytherin who fell for his pernicious claptrap is keeping quiet-- and perhaps some of them have even learned wisdom. And _that_ means the house is now being given back to the kind of people who have... more positive attitudes toward the world. In many cases, they see power and influence as a way of ensuring that good gets done. Do you see what I mean?"

"Stark says he wants to be Minister for Magic, so he can make sure Muggle-born kids have an easier time when they start at Hogwarts," Loki remembered. 

"There you are. Ten years really isn't so long-- well, it isn't when you're as old as I am-- and already we can see the positive side of Slytherin making itself known once again.

"And the important thing to keep in mind, Mr. Odinson, is this: each house, or rather the traits valued by each house, has had its turn to do good and evil. It's just that the cycles can be very long, with extended periods of peaceful balance between them, and so we remember the most recent one. You're studying History of Magic, is that right?" Loki nodded. "Pay special attention to the Goblin Rebellions. In my parents' day, they were taught about glorious battles, and heroic Gryffindor leaders. 

"But if you listen to Professor Binns, and read the textbook closely, you're apt to realize that what happened was actually that clever witches and wizards worked out intellectual explanations for why they were superior to the goblins and so should have more rights. That, Mr. Odinson, was Ravenclaw's best trait, shown at its worst. And when, after generations of this, the goblins had enough and rose in defiance and self-defense-- well, who were the brave warriors who opposed them, sometimes in the most brutal manner imaginable?"

"Gryffindors?" Loki whispered. 

"Exactly. The leaders, at any rate. Courage is a fine trait. Courage turned into violent arrogance, courage that seeks glory in battle even when the battle should have been avoided in the first place, is a bad one. Intellect and learning is a fine thing, but intellect and learning used to create justifications for bad behaviour is not. 

"And... loyalty to one's friends, and family, and to causes that are just-- that is a very good thing, and what we want to uphold in Hufflepuff. Blind loyalty, or simply going along with what others say, or refusing to question our friends even when we should realize they're wrong-- that's the negative side of Hufflepuff's foremost trait, and even if we aren't the ones leading others into evil, there have been too many times when Hufflepuffs followed blindly along, without stopping to remember that we should think and judge for ourselves. 

"It was perfectly understandable that you should take your older brother's word about the houses, and follow his lead because you look up to him. But since you've come to Hogwarts you have been making friends in other houses, haven't you? Accepting them as individuals, and not worrying too much about what you might have heard about their houses?"

Loki thought about Darcy, and Ian, and even Natasha. About Jane and Bruce, and the friendly Gryffindor first-years. "Yes?"

"And that is what we hope for, in Hufflepuff. The intent of the houses isn't to segregate students by traits, or into _good_ or _bad_ houses. It's to put students in the situation that encourages their own best traits to develop, to help them grow into the best people they can be. It isn't foolproof, but most of the time it works quite well. It's just important to understand that the same thing is going on in _all the other houses_ at the same time. And that it can be difficult or painful, and we also must learn to deal with our faults as well as our virtues. That's also the job of our houses, to help with that. That's why Professor Coulson has been writing to your parents, and will be talking with your brother, and trying to find a way to help him change his ways toward you. 

"And it's why I'll ask you, if he hurts or frightens you again, to go to a prefect, or come to me, so that we can help you. Another reason we have houses at Hogwarts is so that we don't have to face our problems alone. Can you promise to let us help you, if you need us, the way your friends have tried to help you by coming to me?" Loki nodded. "Good. Now, I will be writing to your parents to tell them about this conversation-- not because you did anything wrong, or should be punished," she added quickly. "I always write to the parents of Hufflepuff first-years, and your mother and father need to know about your troubles as well as your triumphs. Your mother and I have exchanged a number of letters already this term. You should know that she and your father are very concerned about their own mistakes regarding you-- times when they misunderstood your wishes and needs. They want, very much, for you to be happy."

"I thought... they'd want me to be in Gryffindor," Loki muttered. 

"Well, perhaps they did. Most parents do like the idea of their children being in their own house, especially if they were both in the same one. But in cases when it's clear the child belongs somewhere else, sensible parents are generally glad to accept what is best for their son or daughter." She smiled. "I admit I have never met your mother, but I was in school with your father, and I recall him being a very practical boy."

"He said you were very sound," Loki remembered, tucking earth around the roots of the last little plant. It patted his fingers as if in thanks, and Loki stroked its leaves. 

"I'm glad to hear it," said Professor Sprout. "And thank you very much for your help. How are you feeling now? A little better, I hope?" Loki nodded, and it was the truth: he felt a great deal lighter, and no longer sick. "Good. I think it's time for both of us to tidy up and go back to the castle. I suggest you wash up and then find your friends. I imagine they're hoping very hard that you'll still want to be friends with them."

Loki nodded, as relief began to spread from his stomach up his body and to his arms and legs. 

"You really think so?" he asked. 

"I know so. It can be very alarming to take a course of action like confiding in prefects and teachers, instead of just keeping quiet and hoping for the best. Only a _very_ loyal friend would do it for you." Professor Sprout smiled. "I think you are all very lucky to have each other."

Loki petted the little plant again. "Yeah," he said, and he had never meant a word so much in his life.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which things lighten up a little bit. Since this is an AU of the Housemates series, anyone who's read those stories will probably recognize certain thought patterns that show up here… 
> 
> **Warnings:** None needed.

Loki crawled through the barrel passage into the Hufflepuff common room. At this time of the evening it was mostly occupied by first- and second-years, since the older students were allowed to come in a bit later. The hum of conversation in the room wavered at the sight of him, and Loki froze, wondering if everybody had been talking about him. 

And then Annie, who had been sitting on the rug in the corner with George and Mitchell, popped to her feet and hurried toward him with her hands outstretched. "Hi! You're back! We’ve been worrying about you!"

She grabbed his hand and Loki, his ears hot, followed her to the rug and sat down. He supposed, though, it was less awkward to have Annie just admit they really had been talking about him, though apparently not in a bad way. After a few seconds the second-years went back to their conversations and games, while the first-years all gathered in the corner. 

"Here," Dennis muttered, holding out a sock-ball. "Your other one is getting kind of ripped up, and I know you're worried about Bronwyn eating bits of it, so I made you this."

"Thanks," Loki muttered back as he accepted the toy. He hoped he wasn't going to get weepy, or anything stupid like that. 

"We practiced flying in twos and threes today," Pippa informed him, "and Madame Hooch said she'd let us practice on the Quidditch pitch tomorrow if we want, because the older kids are going into Hogsmeade. She said she and Mr. Longbottom will be there after breakfast."

"Oh, okay. That's good," Loki said stupidly. 

"We missed you in the lesson today," Pippa said matter-of-factly, and then went back to the table where she had been working on homework. Dennis and the other first-years also scattered, leaving Loki sitting on the rug with Annie, George, and Mitchell. His friends looked nervous. Finally, Annie blurted,

"Please don't be mad at us for telling Professor Sprout. We were... you were... you were so _sad."_

Loki found his tongue. "It's okay. Really, it's okay. I feel better now. I do. Um... thank you for being worried about me."

Annie's face lit up in relief, and the four friends spent the rest of the evening reviewing homework in the classes Loki had been neglecting recently. There was an awful lot of it, and Loki hoped he could catch up.

He had one bad moment, when the first-years went to the dormitory at bedtime and Loki discovered his floppy rhinoceros sitting on his pillow-- apparently, one of the house elves had tidied up his bed while he was with Professor Sprout, and didn't realize the rhinoceros was supposed to be hidden. Loki would have given a lot, at that moment, to know a charm for making things invisible. 

Mitchell glanced at the rhinoceros, and then went over to his wardrobe, rummaged around in the back, and came out with a battered blue rabbit. He glared around at the others, daring them to tease him. George looked reluctant for a moment and then opened the bottom drawer in _his_ wardrobe and fished out a teddy bear. 

"Maybe I'll be able to make it fly on purpose before long," he remarked. 

There was some uneasy shuffling, and then Dennis and two of the other first-year boys also retrieved soft toys from their hiding places. And then everyone put on their pajamas without further comment, and went to bed.

The next morning, all the students in third year and above were buzzing about their trip into the nearby village of Hogsmeade. There so much talk about the visit that there was less than the usual amount of interest in the arrival of the morning owl post. Loki had already received a letter from home this week and hadn't answered it yet-- he felt a little squirm in his stomach as he wondered exactly how much he should tell them, and how much Professor Sprout would-- so he was just watching the owls fly in and pointing out the different species to Dennis, whose interest in owls was steadily increasing. 

"Look at that one!" Dennis exclaimed, pointing out a really huge eagle owl as it flew into the Great Hall, carrying a long thin package in its talons. "He's enormous!"

"He's probably a she, then," Loki remarked. "Female owls are bigger than males. And she's really strong, too-- you almost never see a single owl carrying a broomstick like that."

"I wonder who's getting a new broom?" Mitchell said. His question was answered almost at once, when the owl made a swooping circle over the Slytherin table and dropped the package right into the middle of everyone's breakfast. There was a scramble of students jumping up as they were splashed with cereal, eggs, and pumpkin juice, then a buzz of excitement as whoever had received the new broomstick unwrapped it. 

The Hufflepuff table usually had students of all years mixed together, including the prefects. So there really was nothing unusual about Rogers sitting close to Loki and his friends, but it meant they heard him exclaim, 

"Oh, crikey, it's Stark." He sounded as if he wasn't sure whether to be excited or dismayed. "I wonder if that's another prototype?"

"What do you mean?" Mitchell was bold enough to ask. 

"His family owns Stark Broomworks," Rogers explained. Loki, who wasn't as interested in broomsticks as... some people... had never made the connection. Rogers went on, "His dad sometimes gets him to use prototype brooms-- brooms that aren't ready to be produced for sale to the public-- in Quidditch matches, to really test their capabilities. Stark is a seeker, so he asks a lot of his broomsticks in the games."

"Is that fair?" a first-year girl called Olivia asked. "That he always has the best broomstick?"

"Well, anyone above first year is allowed to bring their own with them, so there are always a few players who have really high-performance models," Rogers shrugged. "And anyway, it's not that his dad is making sure he's got their top of the line broom-- he's _testing_ them. Last year, when he had the Lightning Bolt prototype, he was practically unbeatable, but two years ago-- it wasn't funny!" he interrupted himself to snap, as some of the older Hufflepuffs started laughing. 

"It wasn't funny _at the time,"_ one of the girls corrected. "But since he wasn't hurt-- "

"What happened?" Loki asked. 

"His broomstick _caught fire_ in the first match," Rogers explained. "I don't think anyone ever figured out how it happened, but the model never went into production. Manufacturers put all kinds of different spells on broomsticks, but I'd never heard of one _setting the broom on fire_ before that. One minute Stark was chasing the snitch with the Ravenclaw seeker, and the next his broomstick burst into flame. He had to ditch in the Black Lake-- the Slytherin beaters went right after him, but he was going so fast that he could have drowned before they caught up, if the giant squid hadn't picked him up and handed him back to the beaters."

"And in the meantime, the Ravenclaw seeker had caught the snitch," a third-year boy added. "Slytherin wasn't very happy about that."

"Well, the whistle hadn't blown," Rogers explained, "so the snitch was still in play. The _team_ understood, even if the rest of the house didn't take it very well. And it all happened so fast I'm pretty sure she didn't realize what was going on any more than Madame Hooch did at first."

"You would think the _dirty great flames_ shooting out the back of Stark's broom would have been a tip-off," someone else said skeptically. 

"He was lucky his robes didn't catch before he hit the water," said a fifth-year, and Loki found himself agreeing with Rogers: this really wasn't a very funny story. 

"Nobody ever found the broom," said another fifth-year. 

"Probably wasn't much left of it to find." 

"And then later he told everyone he had to go back to the lake, because he had made a date with a mermaid while he was underwater," Rogers went on, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. "He went on and on about it."

"So he was probably a lot more scared than he wanted to admit," George said, apparently without thinking, and everybody looked at him. George blushed violently.

"Probably," Rogers agreed, before George could feel too conspicuous. "He was really funny about it, though." 

Stark had already gotten up from the Slytherin table, carrying the new broomstick, and approached the teachers' table. He spoke to Madame Hooch for a couple of minutes, then went over to the Gryffindor table to talk to Rhodes. Now he headed for the Hufflepuffs, or rather toward Rogers. 

"Hey, Steve, can I ask a favour of you? I'd like to take this thing for a spin before we play Gryffindor-- " the first match of the year was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, not Hufflepuff-- "just in case anything really stupid happens. Would you mind coming out to spot me, before you go into Hogsmeade?" 

"I'll be glad to," Rogers replied. 

"Thanks. Our team is all fifth-year and below, and I really don't want to shake up their confidence in the first match. Rhodey says he'll come out, too." Stark looked around at the first-years. "Madame Hooch tells me you lot are having extra flying practice today-- I promise to do my best not to die horribly in front of you." He wiggled his eyebrows as if it was all a joke. 

"Stop it, Tony," Rogers said. "Your dad wouldn't send you a broom he had any doubts about, not after what happened in the lake."

"You've met my dad, right?" Stark retorted. "It's lucky for me that I'm his only son and heir, is all I can say." He glanced around the table. "Pray for me, won't you?"

"Go away, Tony," Rogers said sternly. Stark wore a grin as he walked away, but Loki wasn't sure it was a real one.

~oOo~

The first-years were going to the Quidditch pitch at the same time the older students were starting for Hogsmeade, so there was quite a lot of confusion on the front steps of the castle for a few minutes. Loki stuck close to Rogers and his broomstick as they came outside, but he didn't see Thor or his friends. The headmistress, Professor McGonagall, was personally collecting permission forms and seeing off the students, so Rogers and his friends went over to deliver theirs, so they could go to the village after the flying session. 

"A very good idea, to test that new broomstick before the match," the headmistress remarked, her mouth primming up. Loki suspected she had not found the fire incident terribly funny either, and he hoped she had written a really nasty letter to Stark's father about it. "And, Mr. Stark, _what_ are you wearing?"

Stark looked down at himself. Under his unzipped jacket, he wore a t-shirt with a picture of a strange-looking machine that might have been a cross between a Muggle tank and battleship. What Professor McGonagall seemed to be looking at was the lettering on it, which spelled out _Diamond Head_ and _Am I Evil._ Probably the second part was what concerned her.

Stark looked up with a winning smile. "Well, you know what they say, Professor: the Muggles have all the best bands."

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow and looked severe. "That, Mr. Stark, has been progressively less true since the Beatles broke up."

Stark looked really startled for a second, then recovered as the headmistress walked away. "She _fancied_ Paul McCartney," he stage-whispered. For once, the only people who got the joke seemed to be the Muggle-born students, who all giggled.

"John Lennon, actually," Professor McGonagall, whose hearing was apparently very sharp, got the last word over her shoulder. She still looked very stern, although Loki was beginning to wonder if she really meant it. "And I would be very glad if you would consider at least zipping your jacket before you go off to represent Hogwarts in the village."

"Yes, ma'am," Stark replied, with a playful salute that probably wasn't as jokey as it looked. Professor McGonagall seemed satisfied, and Loki was almost certain her mouth twitched as she turned back toward the castle. Loki and his friends followed the older boys to the pitch.

Madame Hooch and Mr. Longbottom had brought the school brooms and laid them out. Loki hadn't realized that _all_ the first years were invited for extra practice, not just the Hufflepuffs. He and his housemates gravitated toward the Ravenclaws, since they were already used to flying together. The Gryffindors and Slytherins did the same thing, Natasha and Darcy going casually to stand next to Clint. 

Madame Hooch spoke to the first-years: 

"Mr. Stark is going to test-fly a new broom for a few minutes, before we turn the pitch over to you. You can get some good tips from watching proficient flyers, so pay close attention. Off you go, up in the stands with you!"

The first-years scrambled up into the stands, all mixed together instead of separate by house. Loki found himself sitting in front of Jane and between Annie and Bruce, with George and Mitchell on the bench in front of them. 

Stark walked his broomstick well clear of the other two boys, waited for them to get into the air, and then kicked off himself. He flew in a careful circle around the field, with Rogers and Rhodes following above and behind him. Stark looked around to see where they were, then over where the teachers were standing, waiting for the test to be over. Loki could see him smile, and he waved at someone before going back to concentrating on his broom. 

Loki had been watching the flyers, but now he looked toward the teachers and realized Professor Slughorn had appeared, and was standing with Madame Hooch and Mr. Longbottom. His wand was in his hand, in case he might need it. Loki, who had been apprehensive as he watched Stark try out the broom, suddenly felt much calmer. 

There was another person standing beside Professor Slughorn. He was shorter and skinnier, wearing jeans and a worn-looking jacket, and his shoulders were slumped. 

"Is that Clint's brother?" Loki whispered to his friends, as if Barney could hear him from all this distance away-- or Clint, who was sitting as far away from Loki as he could and still be in the stands.

Annie leaned over and looked. "I think it is. I wonder why he's here?"

"Maybe Professor Slughorn thinks… " Loki could feel the thought getting tangled as he tried to say it, but he went on, "… maybe he's decided just punishing him won't change anything. Maybe he's-- " He thought about Professor Sprout, asking him to help her with the little friendly plants. That hadn't been a detention, of course, but… but maybe that was sort of what Barton's detention would look like.

Everyone was quiet for a minute. Then:

"It was weird to see him again," Bruce said suddenly. 

"What do you mean, _again?"_ George asked, looking up at him. "You mean you knew him before Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, a long time ago. He and Clint lived with my aunt and me for a little while," Bruce explained. At the confused expressions on the Hufflepuffs' faces, he went on, "My parents got killed in the war, so I went to live with my aunt. And she used to-- there were other kids in the same situation, and sometimes they didn't have much family, or it took a while to track them down, so they'd stay with us, too. I don't remember most of them because I was really little, of course. But Barney and Clint, they've been in foster care ever since _their_ parents got killed. They didn't have anyone, and they… got moved around. They were with us when I was five or six." 

"So they've been in foster care for Clint's whole life?" Annie asked, looking really sorry. 

"I guess," Bruce said, wriggling uncomfortably. They all knew the maths: the war had ended ten years ago, and everyone in first year was eleven. That was Clint's whole life, or awfully close to it. Bruce went on, "They didn't stay with us very long-- Barney was pretty scary then, he'd get so _angry,_ and I think my aunt got worried about what he might do. And they-- the Ministry, or someone-- didn't want to split him and Clint up, so they went somewhere else together."

"Did your aunt know what's the matter with him?" Loki asked, watching Professor Slughorn turn his head to say something to the skinny boy. 

"I think he remembers his parents getting killed," Bruce said, and shivered. 

"Oh," Mitchell said, looking sick. Loki felt the same way: Barney would have been three or four, and Loki could remember things from when he was that age. He tried to imagine _seeing--_

He wanted to ask if Bruce knew anything else, if it was Death Eaters who had killed Clint and Barney's parents. Then he remembered that Bruce's parents had died too, probably the same way, and he knew better than to ask. He hadn't thought about it before, because it was just something you _knew,_ but there must be a lot of kids here who had lost parents, or someone else from their family, in the war. 

Probably his parents, or the people his parents were friends with, had killed some of them. Loki leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his knees. Did that make it partly his fault, too?

He sneaked a look at Clint's brother, standing next to Professor Slughorn. From this far away he didn't look ratty and mean. He just looked small and sad, kind of hunched over like he was tired. Loki could only look at him for a few seconds before his eyes wanted to skitter away.

Loki didn't think Professor Sprout would say it was _his_ fault, what his parents had done. He was only a baby, he hadn't even known about it. He hadn't known _them._ She had _promised_ him that, if he tried hard, he could be a good person. 

Of course, he hadn't told her everything. He hadn't explained that his parents really weren't his parents, that his _real_ parents were locked up in Azkaban, where they belonged. But she had said, she had said people didn't just get born bad, or anyway almost never. And all the things she said good people felt, even when they did something wrong, he felt those things, too. 

So maybe… maybe it didn't matter that he hadn't told her the whole truth? Maybe he just had to work _harder_ to be good than most people did? 

That was it. That had to be it.

What bothered him right now, though, was knowing… It wasn't fair, at all, that Clint and Barney's parents got killed by Dark sorcerers, and then they had to move from one place to another, and never have anybody of their own or anything nice. And all the time _he_ got to live in a nice house, with parents who looked after him, and have a brother, and his own owl, and… and everything, all because _his_ parents had been sent to prison and Dad had wanted to keep an eye on him. That wasn't fair at _all._ If things were fair--

If things were fair, Thor would be _Clint's_ brother, wouldn't he? And Barney's, and then Barney wouldn't be so angry all the time, wanting to hurt people… Wanting to hurt _Clint._

Loki hugged his knees harder, no longer seeing the older boys streaking around the pitch, or hearing the voices of his classmates cheering them on. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't just _give_ Thor to Clint, of course-- although Thor had pretty much done that for himself, hadn't he?-- and he had no idea what he should do about Barney. Barney had never even _looked_ at him, and Loki was scared of him. 

He sneaked another look at Barney, and then turned to look up at Clint, who was watching the flyers and didn't notice. He didn't know what to do, but if he was going to be a _good person…_ that meant he had to do _something._

He was going to have to think about it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which Loki's dad's name (and mine's) comes in for a little teasing. Also, I'm afraid this chapter is a little random and largely here to work in some stuff we need in place for later.
> 
> **Warnings:** None needed.

"I think I'd like to learn how to cook," George announced, as he measured his essay for History of Magic, trying to get it finished before the Halloween feast that night. He made a grumbling noise when he found it still short of the assigned length, and picked up his quill again. A moment later, he looked up as Mitchell poked him. "What?"

"You can't just say something like that with no explanation and expect us not to notice," Mitchell complained. _"Why_ do you want to learn how to cook?" 

George frowned, as if his reasoning was so obvious that Mitchell must be confused on purpose. And then he glanced around and found Annie and Loki giving him the same look, and explained, 

"For Potions. Annie, you know how to cook, and you're really good in Potions-- "

"Well, maybe I'm just _really good in Potions,"_ Annie pointed out. 

"Sure, probably, but maybe knowing how to cook is _helpful,"_ George said. "And I need all the help I can get."

Loki and Mitchell glanced at each other. It was true that George was not exactly top of the class, but he wasn't alone. Loki was doing quite well in the subject, but that was mostly because he had neglected almost all his other classes for several weeks. Now that he was spending appropriate amounts of time on his other homework, he would probably slip back again. As for Mitchell, his practical results were often so bad that anyone except optimistic Professor Slughorn might have started to think he was doing it on purpose. 

Annie chewed her bottom lip. "I think you're probably right," she told George. "Especially baking, where you have to follow recipes pretty closely. Maybe that kind of practice is good training for Potions."

"It's certainly worth trying," Mitchell said, perking up. "And besides, it's not like I could get any worse. Let's try it-- over the holidays, let's all learn to cook something, and see if it helps us after Christmas."

"All right," Loki agreed. He hoped Bindi wouldn't mind him asking her for help. 

"Great," George said happily, returning to his essay. "I'll ask my dad, he likes to make scones and things."

"How about your dad, Loki?" Mitchell asked, in a gently needling tone. "Does he bake?"

Loki tried to imagine his father wearing an apron, with flour on his nose, and had to clamp his hands over his mouth so he wouldn't laugh right out loud in the library. "No."

"No? Odin Odinson is not a famous baker?" Mitchell continued. Loki crossed his eyes at Mitchell, which made him giggle quietly but not change the subject. "Seriously, Loki-- _Odin Odinson?_ How did that even _happen?"_

"It was a tradition," Loki explained patiently. "From, you know, a long time ago, when that was how family names worked."

"I know _that,"_ Mitchell said. "That's how we get… Johnsons. But John Johnson would be funny, too. Like Donald MacDonald, or Patrick Fitzpatrick. Or Gibbon Fitzgibbon." 

"That last one isn't a real name," Annie told him. 

"That's what _you_ think. And it isn't any funnier than-- " Mitchell began, but George poked him, hard, and said, 

"I think that's probably just about enough." 

Mitchell looked at George, puzzled, and then at Loki. His eyes widened and he exclaimed, "Oh. Oh gosh. I didn't mean to… I don't mean-- " Mitchell did not splutter very often, but he could hardly finish a sentence. Loki decided he probably needed some help. 

"It's okay, I know you weren't really making fun of my dad," Loki said. 

"I wasn't," Mitchell promised. "Well, I mean… I guess I was, but I wasn't _really--"_

Loki waved at him to be quiet, and explained, "Okay, back a long time ago, when our family-- " he didn't even flinch when he said it, he'd heard this story so many times he could just tell it again without thinking about what was different this time-- "quit naming themselves after their fathers, we stopped on Odinson. But someone-- some kind of great-great-something grandfather-- decided that _Odin_ should still be used as a given name, and for a long time the first boy in any generation in our family was called that."

"So your dad isn't the first Odin Odinson," Mitchell said, his curiosity-- and his sense of humour-- getting the better of his wish not to be rude. "I bet you're glad _you_ weren't the first one. But-- okay, your brother is Thor, so does that mean you have an older cousin called Odin Odinson running around somewhere?"

Loki shook his head. "No, we don't have any cousins. Dad says that when Thor was born he just didn't have the heart to give him such a stupid name, that he'd gotten teased enough at school for all of us." Suddenly remembering, he added, "He also told us once that when he was at school he tried to get all his friends to call him _Clarence,_ and if Thor or I ever had a son we wanted to name after him, we should either call him Clarence or lie down quietly until the feeling passed." 

_"Clarence?"_ George asked. "Is that really an improvement?"

"Over _Odin Odinson?"_ Mitchell said. George considered, and then made a face of agreement. Mitchell turned back to Loki and said, "You know, it's a good thing your dad was in Gryffindor-- a Hufflepuff would _never_ have lived that name down." 

"I never thought of that," Loki admitted.

"Isn't he an Auror, though? Maybe that's why," Mitchell went on, his face brightening as the story took shape for him. "Maybe he got so tough, beating up people who teased him about his name, that he just-- "

"If you wish to hold a conversation," Madame Pince, the librarian, said from behind them, "I suggest you leave the library." Loki and his friends made apologetic faces and returned to their homework. That lasted about five minutes.

"Did anyone in the family get mad, when your brother was named Thor?" Mitchell whispered. 

"I don't think so. Dad doesn't have a lot of close relatives," Loki said. "And anyway, I don't think it would have mattered. When Dad decides something is the right thing to do, he's kind of hard to stop." 

_If Dad decided he should do something to help Clint and Barney, he would just do it. It wouldn't matter to Dad that Barney was scary and Clint hated him._

Loki squirmed guiltily, even though he hadn't even thought of anything he could do anyway. He dipped his quill in his ink bottle and tried to concentrate on his essay. As he did, though, Annie put down her quill and whispered, "Do any of you have your copy of _A History of Magic_ with you?"

"Are you crazy?" George whispered back. The book was so heavy that Professor Binns only assigned it to the first-years as homework, so they wouldn't have to carry it around the castle with them. 

"Rats," Annie muttered. "I can't remember who was represented at the first Wizards' Council." 

"They must have a copy here, in the history section," Loki suggested. "Or another book that has the same information." 

Mitchell eagerly put down his quill. "I'll help you find one." 

"Me, too," Loki offered, and George let his parchment roll itself up with a look of gratitude on his face. 

Annie smirked. "I have such good friends. Especially when you're bored."

"And also when I have cramp in my hand," George said, wiggling his fingers as they walked toward the shelves where the history books were kept. The four began a search for a book that covered the time period their essay was about.

"Speaking of names," Loki said suddenly, as it occurred to him, "why are you called Mitchell, if your name is John?" 

Annie and George stifled laughter, and Mitchell explained, "There were five of us in my class at the Muggle school: John, Johnny, Jack, JR.... and Mitchell. I suppose your dad had the advantage of being the only Odin in his class."

"As far as I know," replied Loki, who had always been the only Loki, and started taking books off the shelves.

He was sitting on the floor, paging through a big leather-bound history book, when from the other side of the book case he heard Annie whisper, "Oh, cool!" and then, "Come look at this!" He put his book back on the shelf and went over to the other side to see what Annie had found. 

"Wow," Mitchell was saying, and George budged over so Loki could also see the books Annie was referring to: a set of big leather-bound volumes, four of them, with gold lettering: _Who Was Who In the Wizarding Wars._ Annie had already pulled out the third one and was flipping eagerly through it. 

"What is it?" Loki asked, leaning over George to try and read the pages Annie was turning. 

"It's about the people who fought in the Wizarding Wars-- what they did and what happened to them," Annie whispered. "I'm looking for-- there he is!" She dumped the book into Mitchell's lap, making him _oof_ in surprise. "It's your dad!"

Loki and George scrambled closer so they could see, too. Annie was pointing to a name halfway down a page, next to a picture of a dark-haired wizard who was smiling and making faces at them. He looked so much like Mitchell that Loki probably wouldn't have needed to be told whose dad he was. There was a short section of text that went with the picture, explaining that _Mitchell, Declan,_ had been responsible for sneaking more than two dozen Muggle-born witches and wizards and their families out of Britain to the relative safety of Ireland. Near the end of the war, one of these rescues had gone bad and the Mitchell family had been forced to escape, themselves. 

"It sounds so neat and tidy, the way they say it here," Mitchell remarked, staring at the page. George and Annie did, too, and Loki remembered their conversation on the train: if it hadn't been for Mitchell's parents, they probably all would have been caught by the Death Eaters, and maybe they would have been killed. He hugged himself and tried not to think about who those Death Eaters might have been. 

"Is your mum in here, too?" Annie whispered, turning the page to find _Mitchell, Moira._

"How about Loki's mum and dad?" Mitchell asked, once they had read the entry on his mother, which was almost identical to the one about his dad. The names beginning with O were in the same volume, so Annie quickly paged ahead to find them. Loki's dad got quite a long section, while his mother's was shorter but mentioned the false documents Mitchell had said his dad talked about. Loki wondered again whether she had made up false documents for him, so no one would know who he used to be. 

"That's your dad, Loki?" George asked, looking at the picture glaring up at them from the page-- Dad really, really hated to have his picture taken. "Mitchell, do you still want to make fun of his name?" 

"Um, no," Mitchell decided. "And I probably wouldn't call him Clarence, either."

Loki reached over Annie and pulled out the first volume of the series, letting it fall open to the middle. He found himself looking at names beginning with D, and started flipping backwards. 

"What are you looking for?" George asked. 

Loki shrugged awkwardly. "I'm… just curious," he said, as he reached _Campbell_ and scanned for his parents' name. He didn't see it. Moving on before anyone could ask more questions, he whispered, "Do you suppose Clint's family is in here?" Turning pages over quickly, he found the B's, and looked for names he recognized.

There were four entries for people named Barton. One of them was a black man and two were women, but _Barton, Douglas,_ looked like Barney around the eyes, except he was somehow mousey instead of ratty. There was a black border around his entry. Loki had noticed a lot of those as he turned the pages, but he hadn't wondered what they meant until now.

"Huh," George murmured, "I didn't think he'd be here."

"What do you mean?" Loki asked, looking closer. 

"Well, it looks like these books only include people on the good side, and the way Barney acts… "

"I never thought of that," Loki admitted. He had just assumed Clint's parents were good.

And they were. The four friends read the entry, which said Douglas Barton had been a clerk in the office of Magical Education, and had manipulated and falsified records to hide the whereabouts of underage Muggle-borns to give their families time to get to safety. It wasn't exciting the way wizard duels were, but it had saved a lot of people. The Death Eaters had eventually figured out what Mr. Barton was doing, and he and his wife were both murdered. They were survived by their two young sons. 

"I don't understand that," Mitchell said, frowning at the page. "I mean, why would Barney hate Muggle-borns, if his parents tried to _help_ them?"

Loki had been wondering the same thing, but Annie looked at Mitchell in disbelief. "You're kidding, aren't you?" she asked. "How would _you_ feel, if _your_ parents hadn't been quite as quick and as lucky as they were?" Mitchell opened his mouth, and then closed it without saying anything. 

George shifted uneasily. "Let's see if there's an entry about Professor Sprout," he suggested. 

~oOo~

The library closed early that night because of the Halloween Feast, but Loki and his friends really hadn't gotten much work done after they found the books about the war anyway. As they walked back to the Hufflepuff basement to put away their school bags, Loki was lost in thought, while his friends chattered about the people they knew who they had just read about. 

He kept thinking about sad, shabby Clint, and his angry big brother. Clint and Barney's parents were _heroes--_ shouldn't that mean their sons deserved to be looked after better? If _his_ mum and dad had died protecting other people, they certainly would have hoped someone would take good care of Thor and Loki--

And then he remembered that _his_ mum and dad-- the ones he had _then,_ the ones he was born to-- weren't the same ones he had now. And _that_ mother and father probably hadn't thought twice about what would happen to him after they were arrested. He wondered if they ever thought of him at all, in Azkaban. He found himself hoping they didn't.

He was so busy mulling all that over, he hardly noticed where he was until the four Hufflepuffs rounded a corner and Loki walked right into someone much bigger than he was. He bounced off, stumbled backward, and looked up. His apology died on his lips as he looked up at Volstagg looking down at him. Thor was to Volstagg's left, and the rest of their friends just behind them.

Thor took a step forward, his right hand up, reaching toward him. "Loki-- "

Mitchell moved first. "'Scuse us," he blurted, grabbing Loki by the shoulders and pulling him backward, out of Thor's reach. "We were just-- "

"-- common room," George contributed, catching at Loki's sleeve, as Loki continued to swallow hard and stare up at his brother. 

"Goodbye," Annie added, as all four Hufflepuffs backed up a couple of steps as a group, and then bolted away down a corridor. 

They kept running even after they realized no one was chasing them, finally puffing to a halt by the pile of barrels. Annie turned to Loki. "Are you okay?" she asked, as soon as she could speak. 

Mitchell and George looked sheepish. Mitchell said, "Sorry about… dragging you away like that. We just thought... after what happened last time, and since Professor Sprout asked you to-- " 

Loki nodded. "It's fine. I'm fine." His friends looked doubtful, and Loki insisted, "Really. We should go get ready for the feast, I'm all over dust from those books."

Annie tapped "hel-ga huf-fle-puff" on the correct barrel, and the four crawled into the common room, then split up and went to their dormitories.

As he put his books away on a shelf in his wardrobe, Loki thought about what he had told his friends. He realized that he actually felt better than fine, despite the jolt of panic he'd felt when he and Thor were suddenly face to face and Thor had started toward him. That really had scared him, but nothing bad had happened this time. 

And, for the first time since... well, since he couldn't remember when, Loki had known what to do when faced with his brother. Professor Sprout had asked him to not to be around Thor unless there was a teacher present, and Loki had promised. He realized now there was relief in that: he didn't have to wonder whether he should approach Thor, or screw up his courage to try to speak to him. Or wonder if he would feel his hopes come crashing down under him again when Thor ignored him or chased him away-- or worse. 

No. He had been asked to stay away from Thor for now, and that meant he knew what to do, and didn't have to worry about it, or hope _this_ time would be different, would be one of the times his brother actually wanted him. It made a weight roll right off his shoulders. 

Loki changed into a clean robe and went to wash his face and hands, feeling lighter than he had for ages. 

~oOo~

The Halloween Feast was held on a Thursday, so the following weekend was the first one in November. 

The Saturday after _that_ was the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor against Slytherin. The Quidditch season was six games long. The matches were spread over the entire school year, with each house playing all the others, and the final standings based on wins and also total points scored. 

Mitchell and George-- who had been to a lot of matches with Mitchell's family-- were trying to explain the game to Pippa as they all walked to the pitch together. 

"You score ten points by putting the quaffle through one of the hoops," Mitchell said. "And a hundred and fifty if your seeker catches the snitch, which also ends the game."

"So the team that catches the snitch wins," Pippa said. 

"Most of the time," Mitchell said. "But it's a tricky thing, sometimes it's released at the beginning of the game and just disappears for a long time. In the meantime, one team might have scored a whole lot of goals. If your team was behind by a hundred and sixty points, catching the snitch would just make sure you lost."

Pippa and Dennis looked disbelieving. "How could a team _possibly_ get behind by _a hundred and sixty points?"_ Pippa demanded. 

Mitchell laughed. "You've never seen the Chudleigh Cannons play, have you?"

It turned out not to be necessary to go to Chudleigh to see such a game. The day he tested his broomstick, Stark had mentioned that, except for himself, Slytherin's team was all fifth-year and below this year. It turned out that what he meant was, last year's very accomplished and cohesive Slytherin team had been almost entirely composed of seventh-year players who'd been together for years, and of course all of them had left school at the same time. The new keeper was a fifth-year, but the chasers and beaters were all in second- or third-year. They were promising players, but there was no way around it: this was, without a doubt, the weakest team Slytherin had fielded in fifty years.

Up against an experienced Gryffindor squad-- Sif, at seeker, was the only new player, as well as the youngest-- the Slytherins were badly overmatched. Ordinarily, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were friendly with each other, but fifteen minutes into the game the score was ninety to nothing, and the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw spectators were beginning to shout encouragement every time a Slytherin player touched the quaffle. 

Which, unfortunately, tended to fluster them so much that they dropped it. 

Even with the house rivalry as fierce as it was, Loki had the impression the Gryffindors, especially the players, weren't enjoying the game any more than the Slytherins-- at one point, Volstagg swiped a bludger at a Slytherin chaser half his size, and then looked relieved when it missed. 

The bludger then came back around at Thor, who was busy directing the second bludger away from Rhodes, and hit him squarely in the back. Loki let out a squeak of dismay, but fortunately Thor managed to keep his grip on his broom and was only knocked off course, not knocked out entirely. Volstagg flew past him making grimaces of apology as Thor tried to catch his breath and rejoin the play. 

In almost any Muggle sport Loki and Bindi had ever heard of, a team as far ahead as Gryffindor was would have eased up a little and tried not to completely humiliate their opponent. That almost never happened in Quidditch, for the reason Mitchell had explained to Pippa: unless you were up by a hundred and fifty points or more, you would still lose the game if the opposing team's seeker caught the snitch.

Gryffindor was ahead a hundred and fifty to ten (the Slytherin chaser who scored their lone goal had looked more surprised than anyone) when there was a shout from the Gryffindor stands. A second later, the tiny sparkling golden snitch came zipping into view. Sif was facing it and leaned forward to urge her broom into motion, which was when Loki realized she was flying Thor's Lightning Bolt, while Thor was using her older, slower Comet. 

The snitch had appeared behind Stark, but the moment Sif cued her broomstick toward him he rolled his over and zoomed off ahead of her, so her momentary advantage was lost. The snitch shot straight up into the air, both seekers in pursuit, and then reversed and came plummeting back down. Sif leveled out her broomstick and plunged after it. 

She was still slower than Stark who, when he saw the snitch change direction, reversed his own course by pulling his broomstick over backwards, saving himself a couple of seconds and causing most of the spectators to shriek in excitement or alarm or both. 

The red- and green-clad seekers and the tiny golden snitch all went diving toward the ground at such a rate that it seemed impossible for them to level out before the impact. Annie covered her eyes. Loki couldn't tear his away. Pippa's mouth was open in a silent, awestruck _O._

It might have been the fact she was riding a borrowed broom, or it might have been that she was less experienced, but Sif blinked first, pulling up at what seemed like the last second to zoom across the grass. Meanwhile, Stark pulled up at the actual last second, just as the snitch did, reached out and snatched it in his gloved hand. 

And then just barely avoided a collision with the section of the stands containing most of the Ravenclaw spectators. He dodged the stands, flying out of bounds so he could let his broom decelerate safely, and then flew back holding the snitch over his head, to the joy of the Slytherin supporters and the frank, sheepish, disbelief of his own team. 

Loki, who had thought for a second Stark was going to pancake himself into the grass, cheered along with everyone else in his section-- in relief as much as anything. But then he glanced at Sif, flying disconsolately over to her team mates. Thor reached over to pat her on the shoulder, and Loki suddenly didn't feel like celebrating the Slytherin victory anymore.

Rhodes flew over to say something to Sif-- his expression was kind, but she didn't look at all comforted-- and then to congratulate Stark and his team. The rest of the Gryffindor team followed, looking pretty unhappy but trying to be good sports. Madame Hooch flew over to shake both captains' hands as the spectators began to disperse.

It took quite a while for Loki and his classmates to get down from the stands. In the first place, there was a single stairwell on either side of each section of stands, steep and narrow and made to slow down the exiting spectators. 

In the second place, Pippa was so thrilled she just wanted to sit in her seat and talk over every second of the game. 

"Can second years try out for the team?" she asked. "Do you think I could learn to fly well enough by next year? Did you see Stark go over backward like that? That was _amazing."_

The stands were mostly empty by the time the first-year Hufflepuffs were ready to come down. Mitchell and George were telling Pippa stories about matches they had seen, Loki and Annie turning back to listen. They took such a long time that by the time they got to the bottom of the stands, the Gryffindor team was emerging from the locker room. 

"Stop beating yourself up," Rhodes was calmly telling Sif.

"I had one job," she said bitterly. _"One._ And I couldn't get it done."

"Well, Stark had _one job,_ too," Rhodes pointed out. "And he's one of the best flyers I've ever seen, so good on you for even keeping up with him. And thanks for letting her borrow your broom, Odinson. That helped a lot."

"Glad to," Thor sighed. 

"We only lost by ten points, we can make it up easily if we do well against Hufflepuff in March," Rhodes was saying. "And if Slytherin loses to Ravenclaw-- "

"What are you doing here?" Thor said suddenly, as he spotted Loki and his friends. His tone wasn't angry-- _yet--_ but it made Loki stop in his tracks. At the same time, he also felt a little flutter of anger: he was _allowed_ to be here. Just because Thor was at Hogwarts first, just because he was on the Quidditch team, that didn't mean Loki couldn't come to the school, and go places and do things. Hogwarts wasn't all _Thor's._

"We came to watch the game," Loki spoke up. And he nearly said he was sorry Gryffindor had lost, and he was glad Thor hadn't really been knocked off his broom, but then he didn't know how Thor would react to any of that. He edged away a little, in case Thor made a grab at him. 

"We're just leaving," Annie added quickly. 

Thor took a step forward. "I didn't mean-- just wait a minute-- " he began. Loki and his friends scuttled backwards. 

Rhodes held out a hand, and Thor stopped moving. "Knock it off, Odinson. You promised Professor Coulson."

Thor turned to the Quidditch captain. He looked frustrated, and also something else Loki couldn't figure out. "But I just want to-- "

Rhodes shook his head. "Only with a teacher present, remember?" He turned to the Hufflepuffs. "I hope our next game is a little more exciting for you to watch. Now scoot."

Loki and his friends gratefully scooted, heading for the owlery instead of the castle to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Thor. About halfway there, Pippa started talking about the game again, and Loki was grateful. 

But he did wonder, a little, what his brother had _just wanted to-- ._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which Loki once again does the Hogwarts version of Googling someone. A reminder that the Restricted section of the Hogwarts library is, at least in the books, simply roped off. Students can't sign out or read these books without a signed note from a teacher, but there is no physical barrier preventing them from entering the section (which certainly makes, for instance, hijinks with an invisibility cloak much simpler!) It seems to me there should be some kind of spell to prevent unauthorized users from even getting into the section, but based on book and movie canon, there isn't. I suppose Madame Pince must have thought alarms or ejections would disturb the peace of the reading room. I've expanded the use of these closed stacks for the purpose of this story.
> 
> The organizational principle we see in the Restricted section, at least in the first movie, makes no sense at all for non-fiction, but we'll go along with it here, with appropriate excuses made. 
> 
> Also, nature versus nurture is an ongoing debate. 
> 
> **Warnings:** None needed.

In the two weeks between the first and second Quidditch matches of the season, it really was all the teachers could do to get any first-year to think about anything except flying. Pippa wasn't the only Muggle-born to be completely carried away by her first glimpse of Quidditch, and even a lot of the wizard-born kids were equally thrilled. Loki, for one, had never been to a real live match before and had found the game a lot more exciting than he had anticipated. 

Even veterans like Mitchell and George, who had been to professional matches, had found themselves enthralled by the Slytherin team, most of whom were practically their own age. Seventh-years like Stark and Rhodes, and even fifth-years as big as Volstagg, just didn't look like kids to them. The Slytherin chasers and beaters made the idea of playing on a real team seem possible in a way it hadn't before, at least not until a long way into the future.

Loki was keener on Quidditch now than he had been previously, but he wasn't completely carried away. He was therefore perfectly content to sit on the sidelines of the common room dissections of the latest issue of _Which Broomstick._ Annie had enjoyed the game as well, but her interest in the subject of broom selection was limited to remarking that Mr. Longbottom's sedate Bluebell seemed a very nice model, and the kind of broomstick she would probably like for herself one day.

This had led to her being buried under a positive avalanche of data about acceleration rates and turning radiuses, and other details which proved beyond doubt the vast superiority of many other models. Annie smiled and nodded and allowed the information to flow over her, unheeded. Loki was grateful that at least one of his housemates had managed not to lose her mind-- everyone else sounded as if the Quidditch World Cup was going to be played in the Hufflepuff common room within the next week. 

Still, the new obsession with Quidditch was all to the good, really, except that George and Mitchell were caught up in it. Even at that, it might be for the best. There were things Loki wanted to investigate in the library, and maybe he would be less conspicuous if he was by himself. 

Well, if he and Annie were by themselves. When Loki tried to slip off by himself, on the Saturday between matches, she followed him, complaining that it wasn't a bit fair of him to leave her alone with their Quidditch-crazy housemates. 

"Even if it's only extra homework, it's got to be better than acceleration radiuses," she grumbled. 

"Well," Loki admitted, "it's not exactly homework." Annie gave him a puzzled look, and Loki wrestled with himself for a moment. He couldn't tell her everything, of course-- just the thought of her expression of horror as she backed away from him made his whole chest hurt. But the idea of having someone-- _Annie_ \-- with him while he did this was so tempting that he finally explained, "I want to see whether there's another book like that _Who Was Who_ one, only about Dark wizards."

Annie frowned, confused rather than disapproving, but a little anxious, too. "Why do you want to do that?"

Loki chewed on his lower lip. He couldn't-- just _couldn't--_ tell her the truth. It wasn't fair to tell her a thing like that and then ask her to keep being his friend. But there was another reason he could offer, and it was sort of true, too.

"I've been thinking about Clint and Barney," he said, and that really wasn't a lie, because he had dreamed about the brothers more than once since reading about their parents. He couldn't remember all the details, except that in one of the dreams he'd found himself standing on the pavement, watching Clint and Barney go into his house with his parents-- who were, in the dream, _their_ parents now, and not his anymore-- and in the other he was rearranging his belongings to make room in the wardrobe and chest of drawers for Clint's things as well.

He liked the second dream a lot better than the first one. 

Annie was looking concerned, and Loki explained hastily, "Dad talks sometimes. About, about the war, and the wizards he fought-- " That really was a lie: Dad almost never mentioned the war in front of Thor and Loki. He certainly never talked about specifics, as if not talking about it would make his sons not think about it. Loki had no idea about Thor, but he certainly did, particularly lately. 

He went on, "I was just wondering… whether one of those wizards might have been… might have been the one who-- "

Annie looked _relieved._ "Oh. I was afraid you were…" She trailed off uneasily.

"I was _what?"_ Loki asked anxiously. 

Annie blushed. "I thought you might be… looking for Bruce's parents."

Loki blinked, gobsmacked. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, I mean… when we were looking in the _Who Was Who_ book-- " She trailed off again. Loki stared at her, uncomprehending, until Annie spit it out: "When you turned to the _B_ section of the book, to find the Bartons…"

With an awful jolt, Loki suddenly realized what Annie meant. He had started at the beginning of the _B_ section, looking for _Barton._ He'd found it, obviously. 

But he hadn't seen _Banner._

"You don't mean you think-- ?" he began. 

Annie flapped her hands anxiously. "No, no. I mean… I don't think I did. I just thought... probably they weren't fighting at all. A lot of people got killed in the war just for, just for being in the wrong place. Maybe they didn't write about those people in the books. It was just when you said you were looking for Dark wizards, I thought for a second you were, you were wondering why his parents weren't in the other book."

"I wouldn't do that to Bruce. And anyway, he's _nice,"_ Loki protested. 

"But his auntie's probably nice," Annie pointed out. Loki stared at her. "Well, I mean, it wouldn't matter, would it, if his parents were bad if they died before he could remember them. Not as long as he grew up being looked after by someone who was good. And she _must_ be good, if she took in kids with no parents. And Bruce gets loads of owls from her, and he always seems happy when he reads her letters, so she must be nice to him. So that means he's learning to be nice from her, doesn't it?"

"I... I guess," Loki muttered. _My parents are nice, too,_ he wanted to tell her, but he didn't quite have the nerve. Instead, he just said, "I never thought of that. And you're probably right, about why they weren't in the other book. Anyway, I was just... I don't know why I want to know about Clint and Barney, but... "

"It's okay," Annie said. "I'll help you. We just won't say anything about it to Clint, okay?"

"Okay," Loki agreed, perfectly truthfully. In the first place, you didn't tell people you were spying on them, even for a good reason, and this probably wasn't a good _enough_ reason. In the second place, it wasn't as if he ever had a chance to speak to either of the Bartons, anyway. 

And in the third place, of course, he wasn't really looking up who killed Mr. and Mrs. Barton at all.

Loki and Annie made a very thorough search of the modern history section, where they had found _Who Was Who_ in the first place. Neither of them was very surprised when they found nothing useful: if there had been a book like the one Loki wanted now in the section, they probably would have seen it already. 

"I wonder if there's anything in the Restricted section?" Loki whispered, looking thoughtfully over at the section of book cases that was roped off from general use. The cases were turned so their backs were facing the rest of the library, and signs that read _Restricted_ were fixed to them.

Annie flinched. "We're not allowed to use those books," she reminded him, which of course Loki knew perfectly well. 

Students tended to think of the Restricted section as the place where all the books about Dark, or exceptionally powerful, magic were kept. That was true, but the section also contained books so old and rare and fragile that Madame Pince, the librarian, didn't want to risk them being roughly handled. 

You had to have a signed note from a teacher to even enter that section, let alone use any of the books. Students who got such notes were almost always fifth year or higher, working on special independent study projects. Annie's sister, Becky, had permission from Professor Slughorn to use _Moste Potente Potions_ in the library, and Professor Sprout had given Rhodes and Stark a note so they could use the rare Herbology texts for something they were working on in her NEWT-level class. Even at that, the students had to get a new note, and show it, every single time they needed to use those books. 

The Dark magic works weren't all necessarily old or fragile, but Hogwarts took a very firm line about Dark magic: you were taught about it in order to learn how to defend yourself, or someone else, from it, and that was all. First-years, especially, weren't encouraged to be curious about the actual magic itself. Professor Fury would answer their questions, but he always acted like he assumed sensible people would have much better things to do with their time. 

Professor Fury kind of reminded Loki of his dad that way, sniffing at stupid "pureblood" wizards for thinking they were better than anybody else, and making sure his sons understood how foolish those attitudes were. Loki guessed Hogwarts wanted to make sure students really got the message that the Dark Arts weren't anything to be proud of, before they were allowed to look at books that might have been written from the other point of view. Certainly Professor Fury had lived up to his words on the first day of class, doing nothing at all to make them seem _cool._

Loki had no interest at all in the magic, of course. He just wanted to find out about the people who practiced it-- and not even all the people. But he couldn't exactly go to a teacher and say, "Excuse me, my parents were evil Death Eaters, and I want to find out more about them, so can you please give me permission?" Even if the teacher would do it, all the other kids would find out, and Loki certainly didn't want that. So that meant he would have to _(sneak)_ find another way to get at the books.

"There's almost nobody here except us," Loki pointed out. The library was almost always quiet from Friday night until Saturday after dinner-- it wasn't even open before lunchtime on Saturday. Even the fifth-years, who were getting ready to sit their OWLs in the spring, still gave themselves a little time off at the weekend. "If you went to Madame Pince and asked her some questions, you could keep her busy on the other side of the library while I look at the books I need." Annie chewed on her lower lip, undecided, and Loki pleaded, "Please, Annie, it's important."

"Okay," she said finally. "The books about animals are all over there, near Madame Pince's desk. I'll ask her about owls. Probably I can remember some of the questions Dennis asks you. But you won't have very much time," she warned. "Whatever you're going to do, you had better do it quick." 

"Okay," Loki agreed. "Thank you."

He stayed where he was, on the floor hidden behind the history shelves, as Annie got up and walked over to the librarian's desk. When he could hear the murmur of two voices talking together, he slipped over to Restricted section, ducked under the rope, and hid on the other side of the book cases. 

He looked quickly up and down the shelves, his heart sinking as he realized these books were arranged by title, not by subject like the rest of the library. Probably that was because you were supposed to already know what book you wanted when you came in here: nobody just went into the Restricted section to look around. Having the books in order by title made it easier to find a book you knew about, made it harder to snoop among the rest of them, and meant Madame Pince didn't have to put library markings on the really old, fragile books. But it certainly made Loki's job a lot harder. 

He began with the shelves in front of him, scanning the titles as quickly as he could. He was very careful not to touch anything: you could never tell whether a book might have a spell on it to prevent its being used by someone who wasn't supposed to. 

He went through two full book cases, heart thumping, before he spotted a title that looked promising: _From the Dark Side: Selected Biographies._ It was on a shelf out of his reach, so he had to find a step-stool-- luckily, there was one not far away-- and climb up to reach it.

He had just put his hand on the book when, right next to him, a surprised and angry voice demanded, "Loki! What are you _doing?"_

Loki started violently, nearly falling off the step-stool. 

Then he turned, stomach churning, to meet the disappointed and angry eyes of Annie's big sister, Becky. 

~oOo~

Madame Pince had plenty to say to both Loki and Annie-- who had of course confessed her own part in the plot the moment Loki was caught-- as they sat in straight chairs in her office. Loki, for one, wished she would never stop scolding them. As long as she was doing that, she couldn't turn them over to Professor Sprout, who would be so disappointed in him. After she had _promised_ him he could turn out good after all, she would be disgusted to find out he was looking up evil witches and wizards, as if he wanted to be like them. 

Becky didn't stay for the scolding, Madame Pince sent her away at once, and Loki assumed she was gone to fetch Professor Sprout. He didn't look up when the office door opened, he was too ashamed to look at his head of house. Madame Pince, however, did.

"All right. I'll leave you two in the appropriate hands," she sniffed, and got up from her desk. "And you're welcome to them."

"Thank you for calling me, Madame Pince," said a voice that didn't belong to Professor Sprout. Loki and Annie looked up in panic at the figure that walked around to the other side of the desk to sit down. 

"Suppose you tell me what's going on here," said Professor Fury. 

Loki's throat closed in terror. This was worse than Professor Sprout, even. How could he possibly make this look like anything except a stupid first-year thinking Dark sorcerers were _cool?_ Professor Fury would... well, Loki would be lucky if he didn't lose Hufflepuff every house point they had, and get detention until his seventh year besides. 

Annie was deathly pale, and Loki winced as he thought about how much trouble he'd just gotten her into, too. He had to try to at least fix things for her. 

"Please, Professor," he squeaked. "Annie was just trying to help me."

Professor Fury raised his eyebrows. "Mr. Odinson, Miss Sawyer, I find it very hard to believe you've been in Defense Against the Dark Arts class all these weeks without learning _that_ is not an excuse for wrongdoing." Annie burst into tears, and Loki came pretty close, himself. Professor Fury sighed, then reached into his black robe and came out with a handkerchief, which he passed to Annie. "Calm down. You're not getting sent to Azkaban for this little stunt." Annie cried harder at that, jerking away from Loki when he tried to pat her on the shoulder. Professor Fury waited for a moment, then asked, "What exactly were you doing in the Restricted section, Mr. Odinson?"

Loki sniffled, gulped, and then whispered, "We read something a few days ago. About... about what happened to some of our classmates' parents, in the war." He stuck to the lie he had told Annie in the first place-- he couldn't admit he'd lied to her, too, not right now. "I just wanted to know... if anyone my dad ever mentioned was the one who did it."

Said out loud to a teacher, the story seemed even thinner than it had when he told it to Annie. Professor Fury frowned. 

"And why, exactly, were you so interested in your classmates' misfortunes?" 

Not only thin, but... _spiteful._ Like maybe he _enjoyed_ knowing bad things about other kids.

Loki wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "It wasn't that. I just... " Part of the truth popped out without Loki meaning to say it: "I have bad dreams, sometimes. About the people Dad talked about. And my... my classmates... they're _in_ the dreams now. I thought, if I could just find out... if the wizards I dream about _weren't_ the ones who... then I wouldn't-- I, I make up stories sometimes, I don’t even notice I'm doing it, but then, then when I don't _know--_ " 

Professor Fury didn't move, but Loki felt a hand patting his shoulder. Even as miserable as he was, he could still feel grateful that Annie had apparently forgiven him that far. 

"I guess we're not always as careful as we should be, about who can hear us when we talk," the professor said with a sigh. "All right. I'm taking ten points from Hufflepuff for this, but I don't think it needs to go any farther. Miss Sawyer, you can go back to your common room." Annie's head jerked up, and Professor Fury almost smiled. "I'm not going to eat him. He'll be right behind you."

Annie wiped her eyes and nose one more time and gave back the handkerchief. She didn't look at Loki as she hurried out of the office. When she was gone, Professor Fury turned to Loki. 

"What are the names?" he asked. 

"Pardon?" Loki whispered. 

"Who do you dream about? We might as well get this straightened out now, if we can, one way or the other."

"I'm sorry," Loki muttered. 

Professor Fury shrugged. "I'm just glad to know there's a reasonable explanation. You've already scared us once, you know." Loki looked up, eyes wide. "Professor Slughorn wasn't very happy when you seemed interested in noxious potions, and you such a nice kid. He was pretty relieved when he found out you were just angry at your brother. And now, conveniently, there's a reasonable explanation for this little escapade, too." Professor Fury sounded as if... as if he thought-- 

Loki's mouth was dry. "I really... I really don't want... Honestly, Professor-- " For a heartbeat, Loki wanted to tell him the truth, all of it. But then he realized he couldn't: if Professor Fury was suspicious of him _now,_ imagine how he would be if he learned that Loki's parents were really...

He couldn't possibly tell Professor Fury _that._

Professor Fury ignored his protest. "Names, Mr. Odinson." 

Loki wracked his brain for names from the article about his dad in the _Who Was Who_ book-- it wouldn't do to let Professor Fury know he was only interested in one name. "R-Ravenwood. Um... Arbuthnot. And, um, Campbell-Something. Campbell-Hardwicke." 

Professor Fury nodded. "And who are your classmates?"

"Bruce Banner and Clint Barton," Loki whispered, glad Annie wasn't here to witness his disloyalty.

"Hum. Well, you're in luck: none of those people had anything to do with Banner or Barton."

"N-no?" Loki quavered. 

"No. Ravenwood-- Richard Ravenwood was a traitor in the Ministry of Magic, doing nasty little things with nasty little bits of paper, tracking down Muggle-borns and setting the more active Death Eaters on them. Your dad caught him out before the Ministry fell, and he was sent to Azkaban. He broke out when the Dementors turned, and died just before the end of the war. 

"Arbuthnot-- Stuart Arbuthnot. He passed information to Voldemort from within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, until your dad traced the leak. He escaped from the Aurors to join up with the Death Eaters, and was never seen again. Our information is that Voldemort executed him because he was of no further use."

Professor Fury sighed, and Loki tried not to look desperately interested at the next names. "Felix and Catriona Campbell-Hardwicke. I was never sure which of them was worse, or if they were both equally crazy and vicious. They developed some very... _inventive..._ curses for Voldemort, testing them on house elves, and then put them to use on Muggles and Muggle-borns. They worked at the Ministry after the Fall, _interrogating_ Muggle-borns, before branching out to simply hunting them down and killing them, along with any innocent Muggles who happened to get in their way. They were tried and sent to Azkaban, and I don't imagine they'll ever be let out. I do know they had nothing to do with the Bartons." Pause. "Or the Banners.

"Have I answer your questions?"

"Yes, sir," Loki whispered. It was a lot worse than he had feared, but he could hardly say that to Professor Fury. 

"Okay," said the professor. "And that's the end of you messing around with Dark sorcery, or Dark sorcerers, right? I have your promise?"

Loki looked up, desperate. "Professor Fury, I didn't... I don't _want_ to be a Dark sorcerer. I just, I just wanted to _know--_ "

"All right," Fury said calmly, using his wand to spell his handkerchief clean and handing it to Loki. "All right. A lot of people feel better after they _know._ I just hope I haven't given you material for even worse nightmares. But I'm serious: I want you to promise you won't keep poking around like this, because, believe it or not, it can be dangerous. You make too close a study of evil, without also consciously studying good to balance it out, and you can find yourself developing some very unfortunate ideas." Loki went small in his chair, and the professor said, more kindly, "I really don't think you're planning to turn evil, Odinson. And you're certainly not the first kid I've met since the war ended who worried and brooded about the Dark side. Just... be careful what you get on yourself, because eventually it can leave a stain. All right?" Loki nodded. "All right. I don't think I have to tell your parents about this incident. Get back to your common room, and don't make me regret letting you off easy."

"Yes, Professor," Loki whispered, and fled. 

He was pelting down the corridor outside the library, heading for the Hufflepuff basement, when Annie stepped out from behind a suit of armor. Loki let out a squeak of alarm and skidded to a halt. 

"You were supposed to go straight back to the common room," he said stupidly. 

"I didn't want to come back without you. And I wanted to say something, before we get back there."

"What?" Loki asked, his heart sinking.

Annie took a deep breath. "I'm not blaming you for the trouble we got into, because I agreed to it so it was my fault, too. But I'm not going to do anything like this for you ever again, all right? If you have bad dreams again, you should talk to Professor Sprout. I'm not going to go sneaking around getting into trouble and losing house points and, and feeling _bad_ about what I'm doing. And, and I'm not going to spy on classmates anymore, either!" Annie's eyes filled with tears, and Loki's mouth went dry again.

"Annie, I... I didn't tell you the whole truth," he blurted. "I wasn't... I didn't really want to spy on Clint. It's... it's complicated, and I can't tell you exactly why I needed to do it, but... I... there was something about my, my family that I needed to find out. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lied, or let you come with me. I promise not to do it again."

Annie stared at him for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. Loki held his breath. Finally, she said,

"Okay. As long as you don't lie to me anymore." Loki flinched at the thought of the lies he had already told her, but he nodded. Annie nodded, too. "All right. Let's go back to the common room." She turned and began walking quickly down the corridor, Loki hurrying along in her wake. 

He was afraid to ask, but after a while he couldn't help himself: 

"Annie? Annie, wait a minute. _Please."_ Annie stopped, and Loki caught up with her. "Are we... are we still friends?" he asked painfully. 

Annie's stern expression held for a moment as she studied his face, Loki holding his breath. Then, just as he thought he couldn't stand it anymore, she softened. 

"Of course we are," she said, and Loki exhaled. 

"I promise not to get you in trouble again," he began. 

"And I promise to try harder to stop you, if you come up with another idea like that one," Annie said, her mouth twisting a little. Then she reached out and caught him by the hand. "Now come on, before Professor Fury catches us again." 

The two of them hurried back to the common room together.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which we skip ahead to Christmas holidays. I'm assuming here that the school provides lunches to the students on the trip back. I mean, Liquorice Wands and Chocolate Frogs off the trolley are a fun treat, but regardless of what Mitchell might tell you, they're hardly a  meal. 
> 
> **Warnings:** It is entirely possible that I have been replying to reader comments as if they were true, solely to avoid spoilers. The question is,  which comments?

Annie kept her word: she and Loki really were still friends as Christmas approached and the term ended. He knew he didn't deserve such a loyalty, but he remembered how the Sorting Hat shouted _"Hufflepuff!"_ the moment it touched her head. Annie probably couldn't help it. 

It bothered him, that he hadn't told her the truth, or George and Mitchell either, when they found out what had happened. Mitchell seemed mostly disappointed that he'd missed a chance to peek at the forbidden books, but George was angry enough at Loki over the rule-breaking for himself and Mitchell both. Luckily it didn't last very long, and by the time they packed to go home for Christmas Loki could pretend that everything was just the way it had always been. Almost.

Except when he lay in bed at night, his lavender sachet clutched in the hand held next to his face, and tried to tell himself it was okay to keep lying to his friends about who his parents really were. But at least he was always able get to sleep now, and if he dreamed, at least he didn't make enough of a fuss to wake the rest of the dormitory again. 

He didn't speak to Thor again after the incident at the first Quidditch match. Professor Sprout asked once if he wanted her to arrange something, but Loki couldn't imagine anything he would want to say to his brother right now. He said _no_ before he thought to ask whether she was asking because _Thor_ wanted to talk to _him,_ but when he did ask Professor Sprout said she had just wanted to know, and was always there if Loki changed his mind. Loki was content with that: he knew he was going to have to talk to Thor when they were home for the holidays, but for now it was nice not to have to think about him very much. 

It turned out he wasn't going to have to think about his brother for the first two days of the Christmas break, either: just before term ended, he got an owl from his mother, telling him Thor would be going to see Hogun's family instead of coming straight home. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about that. 

"Relieved," Mitchell suggested, as they sat on the rug in the corner of the common room, in a fog of lavender and peppermint. "You feel relieved already, don't you?" Loki ducked his head.

"Perhaps it's the lavender," George suggested, sniffing at the sachet he was making for his mother. 

"Stop it, George, you'll have all the smell sniffed up," Mitchell scolded, smacking at his hand. George made a face at him, and Mitchell went back to his own sachets. 

"We're going to have the calmest parents in London," Annie remarked happily, as she worked on her project. Loki nodded, wondering if he should make an extra for himself, to carry in his pocket all the time while the original stayed under his pillow.

Instead, he finished sewing up the end of the little bag of herbs and wrapped a ribbon around it. His bow came out lopsided and he had to do it again. As he was doing so, Annie went back to the subject of Thor:

"He isn't visiting Hogun to get away from you."

"And if he is, he deserves to sleep on a lumpy couch," George muttered. 

"I hope it's _good and lumpy,"_ Mitchell spoke up.

"Hear, hear," Annie said cheerfully. "And in the meantime, you'll have your mum and dad all to yourself for a couple of days."

"Right," Loki agreed, rather feebly, and tried not to think about all the times he'd had his mum and dad "all to himself" while Thor was in school the last few years. Probably he should bring some of his schoolbooks home with him.

Annie glanced at him, but said nothing, and they all went back to making their Christmas presents. 

~oOo~

The Hogwarts Express left Hogsmeade Station on the Saturday before Christmas. This time, Loki took his belongings to the back of the train, where there were porters waiting to load them into the baggage car. Not everyone was bringing their owls home with them, but Loki saw Bronwyn settled between a tawny and a long-ear before he ran up the train to join the other first years. 

This time, none of them looked for a compartment to themselves, they just found the open carriage and crowded in together. Darcy, Jane, and Natasha were together already, which made Loki glance around to look for Clint. There was no sign of him. 

"Where do you think Clint is sitting?" he finally wondered aloud, and his friends shrugged in confusion. Natasha overheard him and got up from her seat to come over. 

"He and Barney are spending Christmas at the school," she explained, looking unhappy about it.

"They are?" Loki asked. He suddenly remembered the night before he came to Hogwarts, when he had been so sure his parents would decide to leave him at school over the holiday. They hadn't, of course, Mum had written to say how happy they would be to see him again. He was suddenly terribly sorry no one was looking forward to seeing Barney and Clint.

"Yes," Natasha said. "I wanted my parents to ask Clint to come stay with us, but they thought it would be wrong to separate brothers at Christmas, and-- "

"-- And they didn't want Barney," Loki completed the thought. 

"No," Natasha agreed, looking really unhappy about it. "I have a very little sister-- she hasn't even started school yet-- and if Barney was to get angry at her…"

"Oh," Loki said. Natasha went back to join the other girls as the first-years settled into their seats.

The trip back to London seemed to take a lot less time than the journey to Hogwarts, but it was still late when the train got in. All the first-years were sleepy and, despite the lunches provided to them from the school kitchens, hungry. 

Loki and his friends spilled onto the platform, looking around for their parents. The prefects had to wait until all the other children were accounted for before they could leave, but Becky waved her parents, when they arrived, over to where Annie stood with Loki, George, and Mitchell. There was a lot of hugging, Annie's mother also hugging George and Mitchell, who of course knew her well, and then she smiled at Loki and said she had heard a lot about him this term. Loki hoped it was mostly good things. 

As they stood there, Mitchell's dad walked up. He looked even more like Mitchell in person than he had in the book, especially when he smiled. 

"George, we're giving you a lift, all right?" Mr. Mitchell said. "I understand there's all sorts of cooking at a delicate stage at your house, so your parents are both chained to the stove-- which must be extremely uncomfortable for them-- and-- "

"Dad, this is Loki Odinson," Mitchell interrupted, tugging at his father's arm. 

Mr. Mitchell looked surprised, then turned to Loki with a big smile, like nobody could be more important. "Frigga Odinson's boy?" Loki nodded, a little alarmed to be the focus of attention like this. Mr. Mitchell went on, "I knew her years ago, when you lot were just babies. _Very_ clever witch." He glanced around and added, "Why don't we just wait with you, until your parents arrive? Is that all right, boys?"

"Sure," George and Mitchell chorused, despite how tired they looked.

"You don't have to-- there are lots of people around," Loki started to protest-- and anyway, the prefects were supposed to make sure the younger students were all collected so he wouldn't be alone-- but he fell silent quite willingly when Mr. Mitchell made a flapping gesture at him. 

"Not the same thing," Mitchell's dad said firmly. Then he perked up and looked down the platform. His hand dropped onto Loki's shoulder as he said, "And anyway, I think that's your mother now." Loki turned, to see a golden-haired figure in a pearl-gray winter cloak sweeping toward him. 

Afterward, he cringed a little in embarrassment when he remembered his reaction. At the time Loki didn't think at all, just cried, _"Mummy!"_ and went pelting down the platform to throw his arms around her. His mother looked startled for a second but hugged him back, hard, and then let him take her hand and drag her over to the others. 

"This is Annie, and George, and Mitchell, and Annie's mum and dad Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer, and Mitchell's dad Mr…. Mr. Mitchell," he blurted, bogging down a little at the end over the ridiculousness of Mitchell's dad being called Mr. Mitchell. He looked up at his mother, just in time to see her smile of greeting turn into one of startled pleasure as she extended her free hand to Mitchell's dad.

"Declan? How wonderful to-- I had no idea the Mitchell Loki wrote us about is your son, I assumed that was his given name. It's been-- "

"Ten years at least," Mr. Mitchell agreed, clasping her hand briefly. "Since we went to Ireland, anyway."

"I was so glad to know your family had gotten away safely," Mum said, smiling at Mitchell. "We had already sent our boys to France, with old friends, but I did worry about your son." Loki kept his expression carefully blank-- he had heard all his life that he and Thor had been sent to safety in France during the last days of the war, but now he thought that couldn't possibly be true. Thor would have been too young to remember clearly whether he actually had a little brother at the time or not. And then he was distracted from the thought as Mum went on, "I hope the children can visit together during the holiday. I wonder if the twenty-seventh or -eighth would be a good day to plan for?"

The idea of having guests, his _own_ guests, was so exciting to Loki that he forgot to wonder whether Mum was lying about him going to France with Thor. The Sawyers and Mr. Mitchell said December twenty-seventh would be a good day for a visit. The adults suggested Loki send Bronwyn with a more specific invitation to the Mitchell on Boxing Day, since wizarding owls could always locate a person they knew. 

And then Becky joined them, her prefect duties all done, and everyone went to collect trunks and owls and wish each other a happy Christmas, and then split up to go home. Mum took charge of the trunk while Loki carried Bronwyn's cage in his arms, talking non-stop about practically everything that had happened all term he had been unable to fit in his letters. 

"Happy Christmas, Loki!" a voice called, and Loki looked up to see Darcy and Jane about to leave the station with a woman who must have been one of their mothers. 

"Happy Christmas, Jane and Darcy," Loki called back, waving as well as he could with an armful of owl. "Have a nice holiday!"

"Are Jane and Darcy in Hufflepuff as well?" Mum asked, watching the girls go. 

"No, Jane's in Ravenclaw and Darcy's in Slytherin. Happy Christmas, Ian!" Loki interrupted himself to call, waving again. Ian waved back and Loki turned to his mother. "Ian's in Slytherin, too. We have a lot of classes together, they're really nice."

Mum smiled suddenly. "Are they, my little Hufflepuff?" she said, and leaned down to kiss him on top of the head. Loki didn't understand why she did it, but he didn't try to pull away-- he was taken by surprise, and anyway it was all right when it was your mother. And besides, he had missed her. 

He was still chattering as they reached the car-- a plain Muggle car, because you weren't supposed to put enchantments on what Dad called _Muggle artifacts_ in case they somehow ended up in non-magical hands. And anyway, Dad liked knowing how to operate a proper Muggle car, although Mum avoided driving it whenever possible. Still, it was a convenient way to get home from the train station, without waiting for the Floo to be available.

"... and we thought-- George and Mitchell and I-- that if we learned how to cook something we might do better in Potions, so-- "

His mother interrupted him. 

"Loki? Sweetheart, I need to ask you a favour." Loki nodded eagerly. His mother said gently, "I need for you to save your stories until we get home." Loki blinked and looked down, nodding without a word. He was bundling Bronwyn into the back seat when his mother caught him by the shoulder, turned him toward her, and then gently lifted his chin so that she could see his face. "Loki. I want to hear everything you have to tell me, but I get quite nervous when I drive with you or your brother in the car. I'm afraid that I'll bump into something and you or Bronwyn or some poor Muggle will be hurt. So I won't be able to listen to you properly until we get home. But when we get there, I'll want to hear all about everything, including why you think learning to cook will help you with Potions. All right?"

Loki bit his lip and nodded again, still embarrassed about having to be told to keep quiet, like a baby. He got into the back of the car beside his owl, shushing her whenever she let out one of her mewing remarks. Mum glanced at him once in the rearview mirror, but mostly kept her attention firmly on the road-- which really was very busy and confusing, especially in the dark. 

It really was very dark, the headlamps of all the cars dazzling as they reflected off wet pavement. Loki leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes for a moment. 

The next thing he knew his mother was gently shaking his shoulder, and they were home. The car was already inside the garage, which was a detached building outside the wall of the back garden. Bronwyn was squeaking and fluttering in the travel cage, probably because she could hear the other family owls in the owl room upstairs. 

"Wake up, darling," Mum said quietly. "Let's get Bronwyn settled and then we'll go inside and you can have something to eat, all right?"

"Okay," Loki muttered, pawing at his eyes, and crawled out of the car under his mother's guidance. She carried Bronwyn's cage upstairs to the owl room, which was enchanted to stay reasonably cozy even though the windows were open to allow the inhabitants to fly in and out at will. Wizarding owls weren't quarrelsome: old Archimedes _tu-whooed_ softly from his favourite perch by one of the windows, and Euclid, the young tawny owl who now carried most of the family post, flapped his wings a little and then settled down. Mum opened the travel cage and Bronwyn flew to an available perch and carefully folded her long wings. 

Mum gave all three owls a few pieces of meat, for Bronwyn's dinner and to make sure the others didn't get jealous. Then Loki wished Bronwyn goodnight and he followed his mother down the stairs to retrieve his trunk from the car. Using a hover charm to make the trunk easier to manage, Mum led the way through the gate and up the garden path to the house. They left the trunk in the entry hall, at the foot of the stairs, and went into the kitchen. 

Bindi was there, and after hugs of greeting she ushered Loki to his usual place at the table-- the boys often had meals in the kitchen, when Dad wasn't home-- and brought him a poached egg on toast and some bacon. Mum and Bindi had a cup of tea while Loki ate, finding it progressively harder to talk because he was yawning uncontrollably. When he was finished, he agreed it was probably time he went to bed. 

As Mum helped get his trunk upstairs, she explained, "Your father is in Romania, and will be back tomorrow in time for dinner. And then he says the Ministry can just do without him until after the New Year. Thor will be home sometime on Monday afternoon. So it's just you and me tomorrow. We'll talk about what we want to do with the day in the morning, all right?"

Loki nodded, a little dazedly, and went to brush his teeth and put on his pajamas. He was in bed and nearly asleep when his mother came back, tucked the covers more snugly around Loki and his floppy rhinoceros, and kissed him on the forehead. His "goodnight" came out in a mumble, and he was asleep before his mother got to the doorway. 

~oOo~

By the time Loki woke, the sun was well up and his room filled with grayish winter light. His mother, or someone, had unpacked his trunk while he was sleeping and his clothes were all ready for him. Dad didn't like the family to slop around the house in their pajamas, so Loki washed up and got dressed before he went downstairs. 

Mum was at the dining room table, with a cup of tea and a lot of rolls of parchment before her. She smiled at Loki and said "Good morning" as he pulled out a chair. Bindi appeared almost at once to give him a bowl of hot oatmeal with milk and brown sugar. 

Ordinarily, Bindi would have stayed to talk, but she glanced at Mum and vanished back toward the kitchen as Loki picked up his spoon. Mum let Loki eat a few spoonfuls of his milky oatmeal, and then said, 

"Darling, I've just had a message from the hospital. Two of our long-term patients have unexpectedly been given clearance to spend Christmas at home, so I've been asked to go in and write up care plans for their families." Loki nodded, keeping his expression as blank as he could manage. It was all right, he told himself. He could read, and later he would play with Bronwyn, and surely Mum would be home in time to have dinner with Dad, wouldn't she-- ?

Mum went on, "It should take an hour or two at most, so I thought perhaps you could bring along a book or something to occupy yourself with while I'm working. I promise I'll be as quick as I can. And then, after, I'll need your help with something."

Loki was already surprised and pleased at the idea of accompanying his mother to the hospital. The notion of her needing his help with something gave him a happy little glow before he even asked what it was. 

Mum glanced at the dining room door, then leaned forward conspiratorially. "Bindi tells me she's seen Muggle children, quite little ones, wearing knitted hats that look like animals' faces. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes," Loki said, remembering the youngest children at the Muggle school he had attended. "Sometimes they have mittens, too, to match them."

"Wonderful," Mum beamed. "That's what she wants for Christmas. Now, I know you learned all about Muggle money at school, didn't you?" Loki nodded. "Good, because I find it very confusing. I've already had a look in Diagon Alley and haven't found anything quite right. So I thought, after I finish at work, we could go round some Muggle shops and see what we can find. And then we can have lunch out together at a Muggle restaurant, because I haven't eaten at one of them since... well, since before your brother was born. Does that sound like fun?" Loki nodded vigorously. "Good. We'll set out as soon as you've finished your breakfast. Mind you don't choke yourself," she added hastily, as Loki applied himself to his oatmeal with a will. 

~oOo~

There was a low, round table in one corner of Mum's office. Loki sat on the floor beside it with his coloured pencils and a book of paper, drawing, while he waited for his mother to finish her work. She was at her big desk consulting with other healers, and of course they had cast a muffling charm because Loki wasn't supposed to hear what they were saying about their patients. 

Finally, though, Mum and her two colleagues finished writing on their rolls of parchment. Mum waved her wand to remove the charm, and then called Loki over. 

"Loki, I would like to you meet Madame Miriam Strout and Mr. Hippocrates Smethwyck. Miriam, Hippocrates, this is my son Loki. He's just finished his first term at Hogwarts." 

The witch, Madame Strout, who was about the same age as Loki's mother, smiled and shook hands with Loki. The wizard looked to be Dad's age, not as tall but much wider, with a grizzled beard. He looked at Loki with a scowl that seemed more thoughtful than disapproving, and barked, 

"Hogwarts, eh? Suppose you're in Gryffindor, like your mother and father."

Loki felt his face getting painfully hot. At the same time, he felt a little rush of defensiveness. "Um, no, sir. I'm-- "

"Loki is our _younger_ son, Hippocrates," Mum interrupted in a mild tone. "I've told you-- "

The gray-haired wizard brightened at her words. "Oh, you're the Hufflepuff, what?" Loki nodded, and Mr. Smethwyck went on, "My old house, Hufflepuff."

"A great many healers have come from Hufflepuff," Madame Strout remarked, smiling. 

"Suppose Pomona Sprout's still head, is she?" said Mr. Smethwyck. "I was at school with her. Awfully pretty girl, Pomona. Dirtiest hands you've ever seen, of course." Loki was trying to imagine Professor Sprout as a girl-- he was able to picture the dirty hands, if not the prettiness-- when Mr. Smethwyck went on jovially, "And what did old Clarence have to say, about a boy of his Sorting into Hufflepuff?"

Loki actually felt the blood rush away from his face-- he had quite successfully not thought about that question in months-- and Mum spoke up quickly. 

"What would _you_ say, Hippocrates, if you knew a child of yours was in Pomona Sprout's care?"

"I'd call them lucky," Mr. Smethwyck replied stoutly. 

"Exactly," Mum said firmly, and smiled at Loki. "We're finished here, so Loki's going to help me with some Christmas shopping. I'll see both of you at the Boxing Day gathering at our house, I hope?" Her colleagues agreed, and both of them shook Loki's hand again and said it had been very nice to meet him. Loki said he was glad to meet them, too, and then he and his mother left the hospital.

~oOo~

The Muggle shops were very busy, this being the last weekend before Christmas, and Mum's cloak didn't draw the kind of attention it might have if the streets hadn't been so crowded, or the other shoppers so intent on their own business. Loki, like a lot of underage wizards, wore Muggle-style clothing as a matter of habit-- after so long at the Muggle school he felt most at home in those clothes, anyway-- and so didn't attract any attention at all. 

They tried several clothing stores, having no luck-- there were hats, but only ordinary ones. Mum finally decided to ask advice of a friendly-looking girl who was tidying the shelves at the third of the stores. 

"Excuse me," Mum addressed her, with a dazzling smile. "My son and I are looking for a present for him to give his little cousin. We've seen a kind of hat, knitted to look like an animal's face-- "

"Oh yes," the girl said. "You mostly find those at specialty knitting shops. I expect there'll be some listed in the telephone directory-- just give me a minute and I'll look for you."

"Thank you," Mum said warmly, and looked at the shelf the girl was standing in front of, which contained a lot of man-sized cardigans. "I think your father would like one of those, wouldn't he?" she addressed Loki. "In the dark grey, perhaps."

The girl was pleased to sell them the cardigan before she looked for the telephone directory. Loki helped his mother with the Muggle money, which she had had changed at Gringott's before Loki came home, when she paid. He noticed she wasn't quite as confused as she claimed, and it crossed his mind that the Muggle clothing he was wearing had to have come from _somewhere._

Not long after, Loki and his mother were entering a shop filled with shelves of wool, rolled up in balls and skeins, with fancy knitted items on display. The woman who came forward was as round and gray and cheerful as Professor Sprout, and Loki's mother repeated the fiction of the little cousin who wanted an animal hat for Christmas. 

This store had a whole section of such hats, which looked like all sorts of animals: Loki could see a monkey, a blue budgie, and several different-coloured cats. He and his mother pored over them for some minutes. 

"Which one do you think Bindi would like best?" Mum finally asked. Loki chewed his lip as he studied the hats-- he couldn't pick his favourite. And then he reminded himself that he was supposed to be choosing _Bindi's_ favourite. He studied the hats carefully, wringing his hands together as he worried about making the right choice. Suppose he picked the one hat she didn't like _at all-- ?_

Loki started as his mother touched his shoulder. "Loki, it's all right. Do something for me, will you?" He looked up at her, and Mum said calmly, "Look at each of the hats one more time." Loki obeyed. His mother said, "Now, quick-- close your eyes and picture Bindi." Loki did. "Which hat was she wearing?"

"The budgie," Loki said at once. 

"Oh, good," Mum said. "That one's my favourite."

It turned out there were mittens to go with the hat, knitted into a pattern that looked quite a lot like wingtips. Loki was completely charmed by them, and carried the bag as he and his mother left the store. 

"I don't know about you," Mum said, "but I'm really hungry. It's closer to teatime than lunch, isn't it? Shall we find somewhere to eat?" 

They were in an area with a lot of restaurants and cafes. After walking up and down for a few minutes, Loki and his mother decided on a cozy-looking little place that smelled delicious. They were soon settled at a table by the window so they could watch people walking by, and a waitress in a white shirt and black trousers came to fill their water goblets and give them menus. Before long Loki had a plate of spaghetti and meatballs before him, and his mother had chicken and vegetables with some sort of sauce. The waitress smiled when Loki said thank you, and said to Mum,

"That's a very polite young man you have there."

Mum smiled back. "His father and I are pretty proud of him." The waitress left them, and Loki and his mother concentrated on their meals for a few minutes. 

Loki was very carefully cutting a large meatball into manageable pieces when his mother put her fork down and leaned forward. 

"Loki," she said quietly, "I need to apologize to you." As he looked at her with wide eyes, Mum continued, "I'm so sorry about your owl. I was distracted when you asked and I forgot all about it. And it seems I also wasn't paying attention when you talked about her over the summer, because I had no idea you had a particular owl in mind, or that you were saving your money to buy her. I'm awfully sorry you had to wait so long to have her, and I'm even sorrier for not listening to you when you were talking about things that are important to you."

"That's all right," Loki said uncomfortably, after a pause. He ate a piece of his meatball and tried to think of something to say so his mother wouldn't look so sad. 

She wasn't finished, though. "You seem to have made some very nice friends at school." Loki nodded, waiting for her to remind him that she had said he would. Instead, Mum went on, "And Professor Sprout says you always go around with the other children in your year." Loki nodded again, puzzled and beginning to wonder if he had done something wrong. His mother said, "That's made your dad and me realize we've also been wrong about some other things, too. We used to think you were happier playing by yourself than with other children. That was wrong, wasn't it?" Loki ate another piece of meatball, unable to meet his mother's eyes. After a moment he nodded. Mum sighed. "I wish you had said something."

"I... one time I said I wished I had someone to play with," Loki whispered, suddenly remembering an afternoon when it seemed all the kids from school were going to each other's houses while he went home alone. "You said I had Thor." 

"Oh." Mum was silent for a moment. Loki continued to stare at his plate, pushing his food around. His mother reached across the table to him, and he found himself holding her hand. He looked up. Even blurry as she was, he could tell she looked very serious as she said, "Your dad and I have made a lot of mistakes that we're sorry for. I promise, Loki, that I'll pay better attention to you, and listen when you have things you want to say. I promise."

"Okay," Loki whispered, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. His mother squeezed his hand and released it. 

"I think Bindi will really like that hat," she said after a moment, while Loki blinked and played with his fork. "And do you know, I think we have time to pay a visit to Diagon Alley before we go home. Would you like to stop in at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and find some gifts for your friends?" Loki looked up and nodded, the lump in his throat dissolving. "Good. They have the best Christmas crackers, too. I hope your dad gets one with a really funny hat in it."

Mum smiled at the thought, and Loki smiled back before returning his attention to his food. It was still warm, and it tasted wonderful.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** Christmas shopping, among other things, although I'm not going to derail the story with descriptions of presents. Also, even "talented liars" need to learn their craft, and at his age this Loki isn't exactly an expert.
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> ___**Warnings:** Moderate amounts of kid- and parental-angst.  
> 

There was quite a crowd in Weasley's, but Mum didn't seem to mind or be in a hurry. Loki had a good look around, hoping to find something he could afford with the little bit of money he had left. He was also uneasily aware that all he had for his family were the sachets he had made at school, having pooled resources with his friends to owl-order the herbs and little linen bags from a shop Becky knew about. 

Mum had gone to chat about Christmas crackers with the younger of the brothers who ran the store. When she joined Loki she was carrying a basket with a collection of them. 

"Have you found anything you think they'd like?" she asked, not sounding impatient at all.

Loki chewed his lip, and confessed in a shamed little voice, "I don't have very much money. I... I spent almost all of it on Bronwyn before I went to school." Now that he thought about it, he was a bit appalled at his selfishness in spending so much on himself, even though he wouldn't want to give up Bronwyn for _anything._

Mum ruffled her fingers through his hair and smiled. "Of course you did. And you know, even though your father and I are ashamed of ourselves for not realizing you wanted her, we were awfully proud of you for saving up to buy her yourself. That was very grown-up of you."

Loki blinked, a little confused by this perspective. "I... I already had a lot of it. When I saw Bronwyn first." He didn't have any reason to spend his pocket money, not the way Thor and his friends did, to treat each other-- candy, Loki had found, just wasn't as nice if you bought it and ate it all by yourself, and buying himself the books and toys he wished for somehow seemed like admitting defeat-- so he only had birthday and Christmas gifts for his family to spend on anyway. His growing hoard of gold and silver had come to feel like... possibilities. After he saw Bronwyn he had told himself stories about being allowed to have her, and saving his money had turned into part of the story. He was still surprised that this story, like the ones he told himself about having friends someday, had actually come true.

"Right," Mum agreed. "You aren't wasteful, so when you wanted to save for something big you already had a good start. That's very grown-up." While Loki was still puzzling that over, she added, "All right. Parents aren't encouraged to send money to first-years, since you don't have much reason to spend it, so your dad and I have been setting your usual pocket money aside. I was actually coming over to give it to you, so you could buy your gifts with it." She looked at him and sighed. "And I should have explained that to you before we ever came in here, shouldn't I? I'm sorry, Loki, do I _ever_ talk to you about _anything?"_ Fortunately, she didn't seem to expect an answer to that embarrassing question. Instead, she gave him an apologetic smile and a bag of rattling coins. Loki began to look around with much more purpose. 

Buying gifts for friends was different from buying them for your family, Loki decided. They had to be small enough to not be embarrassing if the friend didn't have one for you, but still show the person you liked them. He also hadn't done any real Christmas shopping for his family, aside from the sachets. His mother seemed to be in no hurry, so their search took them all over Diagon Alley for at least another hour.

Loki and his mother were out in the street with their parcels when another slightly guilty thought occurred to him. 

"Mum? Has Thor written to you about a boy called Clint Barton?" he asked. 

Mum frowned. "No, I don't think so," she said. "Why?"

"I was wondering whether Thor planned to send him a present," Loki explained. Mum looked understandably confused about why Loki was so interested in this, and he explained awkwardly, "He's staying at school over the holidays, and his brother Barney, and I... I don't know if they'll have any presents at all. I don't think they have any family. I thought I'd... I wanted to send them one. Each, I mean." 

Mum looked startled for a second, then her expression went soft and she leaned over to kiss Loki on top of the head. "That's very thoughtful of you, sweetheart."

Loki blushed, thinking it wasn't so very thoughtful of him when it was probably sort of his fault the Bartons had no parents in the first place. He couldn't say that, of course. 

Mum went on, "So Clint is in Thor's year?"

"No, he's a first-year, too," Loki explained. "He's in Gryffindor, so Thor's been... that's why I thought he might have said something about him." Mum was looking rather confused by now, so Loki went on, "His brother is in Thor's year, only he's in Slytherin so they're not... and Barney's... he's not very nice, really."

"But you want to give him a present anyway," Mum said. 

"Well, I mean... he should still have _something,"_ Loki explained. If _he_ was only given what he deserved, _he_ would be the one all alone at Hogwarts while the Barton brothers celebrated here in London with Thor's family. 

Mum smiled. "I agree. Let's see what we can find for them."

~oOo~

They came home on a big red city bus, because Mum thought it would be fun to do one more Muggle thing that day. It was, too: they took seats on the top deck and Loki sat by the window with his mother's arm around him while both of them looked at the city lights passing by in the darkness. 

When they got home, Mum sent Loki straight up to his room, to hide Bindi's present and put away the ones for his family and friends so he could wrap them later. The gifts for Clint and Barney were already gone, sent by nocturnal owls so the brothers would receive them by Christmas.

Loki spent a pleasurable few minutes examining his offerings for his friends, the first gifts he'd ever bought for anyone aside from his family, before he decided to wrap them tonight. He was terribly excited about giving them. It didn't matter at all whether he got anything in return-- Annie, George and Mitchell might have dozens of other people they needed to buy gifts for-- it was just nice to _have someone_ he felt close enough to, to want to give them a present, even though he didn't have to. 

_Three_ someones. It was still hard for Loki to believe. 

Tomorrow, he planned, he would send Bronwyn with the presents. His friends all lived very close to each other, they had told him that. And he had seen the addresses they wrote on their letters home. He would send a gift to Annie first. Perhaps he should send all the presents to Annie and ask her to deliver them to George and Mitchell. Or should he keep them until the others came to visit? But it might embarrass them if he had presents for them and they had none for him, even though he didn't mind that, he really didn't--

He was just beginning to get rather frantic about this when there came a tapping at his window. Loki looked up, and there on the windowsill was a long-eared owl, tapping and scratching with its beak. He rushed to open the window and the owl flew in to drop a cloth bag on his bed, and then land on the footrail. There was a letter fastened to its leg, and Loki untied it to find a message in Annie's handwriting:

_Happy Christmas, Loki! See you on the twenty-seventh!_

Loki opened the bag. In it were small wrapped packages from Annie, George, and Mitchell. He turned them over and over in his hands, wanting to hug them. Then the owl hooted impatiently as Loki hurried to fetch his own gifts and put them into the convenient cloth bag. 

"Just a minute, wait a minute," he pleaded with the owl, scribbling a note back to Annie and writing her address on it. He tore open the packet of Owl Treats he had bought for Archimedes and Euclid to share-- surely they wouldn't mind?-- and gave the owl one. Then he tied the letter to the bird's leg, scratched his neck where Bronwyn liked it, and opened the window again. The owl flew away, and Loki watched until the floating shape vanished completely among the lights of the city. 

It was nearly dinnertime by now, so Loki closed his window and hurried to wash his face and hands before he went downstairs. 

As he arrived on the landing above last flight of stairs to the ground floor, he saw Dad waiting for him at the bottom. 

The same impulse came over him that had at the train station: he wanted to hurl himself down the stairs and into his father's arms. At the same time, though, he was overcome with an attack of shyness that made him freeze for a breath on the landing. 

Before he could come unstuck, his father was coming up the stairs toward him. The next thing Loki knew, Dad had picked him right up off his feet and was hugging him. Loki wrapped his arms around Dad's neck and hugged back, his father's beard scratchy against his cheek. 

"It's so good to have you home," Dad said, kissed his temple, and actually carried him down the stairs to the ground floor entry hall, Loki clinging like a baby monkey. When Dad set him down, Loki caught hold of his hand. It surprised Loki a lot, but Dad didn't seem to mind, and they walked into the dining room like that. 

As happy as he was to see his father again, Loki quickly discovered it was a very uncomfortable experience, to be the focus of Dad's attention at mealtime. Ordinarily, unless he had to be corrected for his table manners, Loki went nearly unnoticed at dinner while his parents talked over important things. That was dull and rather lonely-- when he was little he had eaten dinner much earlier, in the kitchen with Bindi, and he used to tell her about his lessons at the Muggle school and hear about her day. That was friendly, and he missed it. 

But now he was old enough to dine with his parents, and was used to quietly eating his meals and waiting to be told he could leave the table. He often wished he had important contributions to make to the conversation, the way Thor did when he was home from school, but he knew it would be rude for him to interrupt. On the occasions when he was called upon, Loki had learned that short answers were all that was expected of him. 

Tonight, though, Dad quizzed him about every aspect of his lessons, and when Loki tried to offer the customary short, courteous responses, he only got more questions. The warm feeling from Dad's greeting seeped away as the questioning continued. He put down his knife and fork and concentrated on his answers, trying to figure out what Dad wanted from him, while his food got cold on his plate and his sense of anxiety mounted. He could feel himself shrinking in his chair, as if being small would hide him, and his answers got quieter and quieter as his throat started to close. He ducked his head when everything went all blurry around him, blinking and trying desperately to think of the right answer, one that would finally make all these pointed questions _stop._

He was vaguely aware of his mother shifting uncomfortably in her chair, that she had been doing so for a while, but he was still surprised when she spoke:

"Odin, that's enough."

"What do you mean, _enough?"_ Dad sounded offended. Loki blinked away his tears and peeked up at his father, who looked _hurt._ Loki's chest ached at the sight, he hadn't meant to hurt Dad's feelings, he--

Mum went on calmly, "Let him eat something. There's no need to interrogate him, we have two weeks to talk."

Dad looked really upset at that. "I wasn't _interrogating_ him. Loki, you didn't mind-- " Dad looked at Loki and stopped right in the middle of telling him how he was feeling. Loki clasped his hands in his lap and wished very hard he was either in the kitchen or back at Hogwarts. Now, surely, he was going to get a lecture about being rude, and then he would be sent away from the table. He wished he'd had a chance to eat some of his dinner before that happened, it had smelled delicious. 

There was a long pause, while Loki stared down at his plate and tried not to cry. Then Dad rang the bell that asked Bindi to come back to the dining room.

"Would you please bring Loki a fresh plate?" Dad requested, when the elf appeared. "I seem to have gotten carried away asking him about Hogwarts, and his dinner is all cold."

"Yes, Mr. Odinson," Bindi said, with a bobbing little bow. She patted Loki's elbow as she took his plate from him, vanished with a sharp _crack_ and reappeared a moment later with a plateful of steaming meat and vegetables. 

"All right," Dad said, when Loki didn't move to pick up his cutlery. "Eat your dinner." Loki swallowed hard and tried to obey.

"Your dad was only interested," Mum put in quickly. Loki peeked at her and Mum went on, "You've written us so many nice things about your lessons and your classmates, Dad wanted to hear all about them." She glanced at Dad, who was looking very uncomfortable. "He just forgot that a proper conversation is more than one person barking questions and the other providing the answers." Loki looked wide-eyed at his father, realizing that of course he should have, have asked questions too, only he had been too flustered to think of any. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, pushing his food around on his plate. He froze when Dad suddenly pushed back his chair and came around the table toward him. 

And then there was a big warm hand resting on the back of his head, and Dad leaned down to say quietly, 

"Not your fault. I forget sometimes that you and your brother aren't junior secretaries in the Ministry. Thor doesn't like it either, but I suppose he's more accustomed to it than you are." Dad ruffled his hair and said, "Now eat your dinner. I promise I'll stop barking at you. And later maybe you can tell your mother and me some proper stories about what you've been doing this term."

"And why you think learning to cook will help you in Potions," Mum added suddenly. She had remembered. Loki looked at her in surprise, and for some reason Mum blushed. "I meant to ask you to tell me about that. After dinner, all right?"

"All right," Loki agreed, and-- his hands shaking only slightly-- picked up a forkful of vegetables. 

~oOo~

After dinner, Loki was normally expected to go and do homework or play quietly by himself until bedtime. Tonight, instead, his parents invited him to come sit with them in the library for a while. He joined Mum on the cozy sofa near the windows, while Dad sat in his big leather armchair. After a little while, Loki was snuggled up to Mum, her arm around him, while he told them about Potions class, and Herbology, and Professor Coulson's collie form, and the friendly little plants, and the first Quidditch match played by Hufflepuff, which had been tied until the Ravenclaw seeker caught the snitch. 

Annie, George, and Mitchell's names came up over and over, of course, and Mum asked if he had met them on the train. 

"Yes," Loki said. He was starting to feel sleepy, so he wasn't as careful with his answers as usual. "I couldn't get my trunk onto the train, I forgot about the baggage car. And George and Mitchell saw me and they helped, and then we found Annie, she'd been looking for us on the platform but it was too crowded."

"She was looking for you, too?" Mum asked. Loki nodded. 

"Yes. I met her in Diagon Alley, the day I bought my things for school." The memory of what had happened after that excursion tried to knock at the edge of his consciousness, and Loki forced it away. He was warm and cozy and his mother wanted to listen to him. He wouldn't think about _that_ right now. "I was buying my scales and she asked me about phials, and then she and her sister invited me to come find my wand when Annie got hers, because I was by myse-- "

Too late, Loki realized what he was saying and tried to reel in the words. Mum had been petting his hair like she enjoyed touching him, but now her hand went still. 

"You were by yourself? Where was Thor?" she asked quietly. 

Loki gulped. "He... he had just gone... for a minute-- "

Dad spoke up. "And you went off with these girls, even though Thor was only gone 'for a minute'?" Loki swallowed dryly, and Dad said, "That doesn't sound like you, Loki. When did Thor really leave you alone?" Loki couldn't think of an answer, which really was all the answer his parents needed. Mum tightened her arm around him, and Loki offered,

"He had, he had plans with... he was going to meet them, and then when Mum couldn't... he just... it wasn't his fault-- "

"No, I suppose it wasn't, really," Mum agreed. She felt stiff against him, and Loki started to sit up. Mum didn't let go of him, petted his head again and remarked unhappily, "We certainly did make a fuss of your going away to school, didn't we? You must have wondered if we'd even notice you had gone." Loki couldn't think of an answer to that, especially since the thought really had occurred to him, a time or two when he was feeling particularly sad. His mother patted him again. 

And that was when Dad said, "Speaking of your brother, Loki... we need to talk a little about the letters we've gotten from Professor Sprout and Professor Coulson. Your mother and I understand Thor has been... unkind to you." Loki waited to be asked what he had done, to make Thor so angry at him. The memory came guiltily back, of hiding and sneaking last summer until he made Thor so angry his brother had to shake him by the throat. 

He was taken by surprise when his father's next words were: "When you and I spoke about Thor in September, I told you it's normal right now for him not to want to spend a great deal of time with you. And that's true, but that doesn't mean he's allowed to frighten or hurt you. There isn't any excuse for that."

"He didn't," Loki mumbled, wanting to hide. "He only... I was pestering him. He just wanted me to go away." 

"And he and Volstagg made their point by grabbing and scaring you, according to reports from two different Gryffindor prefects," Dad said grimly. "It sounded like it scared the prefects, at least. Professor Coulson was nearly as disappointed in your brother as we were. And Professor Sprout says there was another incident a little later?"

"He didn't touch me that time," Loki mumbled. "He just... he doesn't want me. And, and he doesn't like Hufflepuffs, so-- "

"Oh dear," Mum said. After a moment she went on, "Professor Sprout said you were very upset about that, and about being angry at your brother. Is that the way it was?" Loki remembered his dream and barely suppressed a shudder. He nodded. Mum was quiet for a moment, and then she asked gently, "Loki, has Thor ever done anything like that before? Hurt you, or scared you?"

"... no," Loki mumbled, almost too quietly to be heard. He couldn't tell them about the summer, he _couldn't._ Thor would get in trouble, and be really angry, and _he_ would tell what _Loki_ had done with the rocks, and despite what Professor Sprout had said, he didn't want his parents to know he had done a thing like that. And anyway, it had been his fault in the first place.

He didn't know if his parents believed him, but they didn't press the question.

"You've never really played with Thor and his friends," Dad said next. "Was that because _you_ didn't want to, or because _they_ didn't want you to?"

Loki chewed his lip, unable to think of an answer. Of course he had wanted to play with them. He could just about remember playing with Thor all the time, when they were really little, Thor directing their games. It had been only the two of them, and Loki had wanted to be with Thor all the time. He had thought Thor felt the same way.

And then Thor had met his real friends, one or two at a time at Elder Cross. Fandral and Sif both lived in London, so he started playing with them whenever he could. Thor had still liked Loki for a little while, when his friends weren't around, but when they were Sif would sneer that they didn't have _time_ for a _baby_ like Loki, and Thor would laugh at him, too.

And after a while Thor stopped coming to find Loki when his friends had gone, to tell him he didn't mean it, really. And then Thor went to Hogwarts, and when he came home he was too old and important to spend any time at all with his little brother except when he really had nothing else to do. And now, of course, Loki was in the wrong house and his brother would never want anything to do with him ever again. 

But Loki was in _Hufflepuff_ now, and that meant Loki wasn't alone anymore, and maybe it didn't matter so much about Thor. Loki still missed him, of course, because Loki was stupid about some things, but the awful cold feeling of knowing nobody liked you, or wanted you around-- that feeling was gone. He had wanted Thor and couldn't have him, because just wanting something didn't mean you got to have it. But he had wanted friends of his own, too, and now he had some. 

"Loki?" Dad prompted, still wanting his question answered. Loki had lost track of it, and Dad repeated, "Did Thor and his friends ever let you play with them? When you were all younger?"

"No," Loki said, without thinking. It just came out. Thor had put up with Loki when he had no choice, and then when he found some other friends he actually _liked_ he had dropped Loki at once. The fact that had left Loki alone, for _years,_ wasn't Thor's problem. 

Mum stroked his hair again, and after a long moment Dad said, 

"All right. Your mother and I will speak to your brother, when he comes home tomorrow. He's not allowed to be cruel to you, and this business of being so clannish about houses-- that has to be dealt with." Dad sighed. "I don't think there's anything we can do in two weeks to solve all the problems between you two, but we can work on them together. And I think it's best, for now, if you don't try to be around him except when your mother or I are there, too. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Loki said. He didn't say it, but that promise would be easy to keep. It seemed like he was losing the habit of wanting to be around Thor, hoping for notice and friendliness. Thor had found other friends to replace Loki, and now, finally, Loki had found other friends to replace Thor. 

And maybe other people he wanted to _be like._ He had once wanted, very badly, to be like Thor in any way he could. Now he thought maybe he would rather be like Rogers, or Stark, or even Mr. Longbottom who was kind and matter-of-fact and could laugh about being a terrible flyer when he was at school.

Later that evening, Loki went out to the owl room to say goodnight to Bronwyn and promise they would play together tomorrow. He came indoors and started upstairs to get ready for bed. 

The door to his father's study was half-open, and as Loki reached that landing he heard Dad's voice saying unhappily:

"He's terrified of me, isn't he?" 

Loki froze on the stairs. He was quite sure the _he_ Dad was talking about was himself, and although he knew it was wrong to listen to other people's conversations, he couldn't seem to make his feet move. 

Mum's voice, quieter but still easy to hear, replied, "He's afraid of me, too. Or at least he doesn't trust either of us-- he seems to always be waiting for one of us to decide he's done something wrong and punish him for it. I don't understand how I've missed noticing that for so long."

"I'd like to know exactly how we've managed to completely lose his confidence like this," Dad said. "I suppose I've always been cold, or too hard on both of them without meaning to be, but I don't understand why he'd be so uneasy around you."

"I've been thinking about that," Mum said. "And I think... our mistake might have been in assuming we ever _had_ his confidence in the first place. Maybe instead of wondering how we _lost_ his trust, we need to ask ourselves what we can do to _gain_ it in the first place. We should have asked that from the beginning. After the start he had in life-- "

Loki listened so hard he trembled all over, but his mother said no more about Loki's start in life and what was so bad about it. Instead she said, 

"But he loves us, too, and I think he really wants to give us a chance. Don't be too discouraged."

"I don't know why he would," Dad said harshly. "I keep thinking about all those Muggle teachers who told us he seemed lonely, and we just blithely said that was his way, because he never played with Thor and his gang. And we never once asked whether he had any choice about that." 

"I know," Mum said. "And it would be easy to blame Thor, but-- "

"-- but we can't fault one child for not _raising the other,"_ Dad said. "I never thought I'd be grateful a son of mine wasn't Sorted into Gryffindor, but as highly as I esteem Phil Coulson, I am very glad Loki is under Pomona's eye right now instead. Aside from it probably being healthier to get him right away from Thor, it's good he's in the hands of someone who understands little growing things for once." There was a strange choked sound, and Loki could hear his mother making soothing noises.

And then he felt ashamed of himself _(sneak.)_ As quietly as he could, heart pounding guiltily, Loki crept up the last flight of stairs to his room to get ready for bed. He gave a convincing impression of drowsiness when his mother and father came in later to wish him goodnight, but it was a long time before Loki got to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** You may notice that Loki has a very bad habit of listening to other people's conversations. I know, it's reprehensible. It's also, I think, the kind of fault you might expect in a child as insecure as Loki: he sees the world as a very dangerous place full of potential enemies, so of course he wants to know what they think of him and might be planning to do to him. And-- of course-- it's also a narrative device to get around the very limited third person perspective of this story.
> 
> Bindi gets almost no lines because I find house elf diction very uncomfortable to write. Sorry, Bindi.
> 
> **Warnings:** I don't want to derail the story by getting all wrapped up in Christmas stuff, so that part is going to be glossed over in much the way Rowling generally does it. Sorry: one holiday story in this AU seemed to be sufficient.

The next morning, Loki was downstairs before breakfast, putting on his coat and boots at the back door, when Dad came out of the kitchen carrying a mug of tea. 

"Good morning," Dad said, his tone friendly. "Where are you off to?"

Remembering the conversation he had overheard the night before, and especially the sadness in his father's voice, Loki did his best not to look anxious.

"I was going to say good morning to Bronwyn and, and give all the owls their breakfast."

"Do you mind if I come with you?" Dad asked. Loki shook his head, as pleased for the attention as he was unnerved by it. Dad got his cloak and boots, and they walked out into the snowy back garden together. 

In the owl room over the garage, the tawny owls were settling down for a nap as Bronwyn seemed to be getting ready to start the day. Archimedes looked around as Loki and his father appeared, _tu-whooed_ at them, and shook out his feathers. 

Dad smiled. "I do love that sound. I think it's the reason I've always had tawny owls." He walked over to the perch and smoothed Archimedes' head. Euclid leaned over and was petted, too. Bronwyn spread her long wings, flapped experimentally once, and flew to Loki's shoulder, where she preened his hair with her beak. He squeaked when she tugged a little, and she let go in favour of playing with the cuff of his coat as he reached up to pet her. She fluttered her wings again, buffeting Loki in the head, when Dad came over have a closer look at her. 

"She really does have striking eyes, doesn't she?" Dad remarked, holding out a hand for Bronwyn to investigate. She tugged at his coat cuff with her beak and Dad scratched her cheek, which Bronwyn seemed to enjoy. Then she sidled around to Loki's other shoulder, using his collar as a foothold, and spreading her wings for balance. Dad smiled. "There's no question whose owl she is," he remarked. 

"She likes me," Loki said awkwardly. 

"She certainly does," Dad agreed. "Do you and your friends take her out flying very often?"

Loki nodded. "We have a ball we throw for her, and she pretends that she's hunting it. And she comes flying with us when we have lessons, sometimes." Loki had been a little worried that she would fly right onto the Quidditch pitch during a game, but Rogers had explained there were wards set during the games, to prevent the school's owls or any other birds blundering into the field of play. 

Dad smoothed Bronwyn's feathers one last time and suggested, "After breakfast, perhaps we could take her into the garden, and you could show me how she plays with her ball." 

Startled and pleased, Loki nodded eagerly. Dad smoothed down Loki's hair as if he was an owl himself, and then they fed the owls breakfast and went back into the house for their own. 

Loki didn't mention Dad's offer later-- it hadn't exactly been a _promise_ , he had just said _maybe_ they could do it, and in Loki's experience maybe usually meant something that never happened, but you were expected to be grateful to the other person for even thinking about doing it. Thor used to make offers like that sometimes, and then forget he had never carried them out. Really, Loki told himself, it was better now, with Thor hardly remembering he existed. At least this way Loki didn't have to wonder what was expected of him. 

Loki was surprised when Dad got up from the table and really suggested they go outside, and then he felt guilty, especially when he could tell by his father's expression that his surprise had showed. 

Dad said nothing about it, though. He just turned to Mum and asked, "Frigga, would you like to join us?" She looked startled, too, for a second, and then her face lit up in a smile.

"Certainly," she said. "It sounds like fun."

And it _was_ fun. Dad even explained the concealment charm to Loki, as he laid it around the garden. When he was finished, anyone in an upper window of any neighbouring house would simply not notice three people and an owl playing in the snow. Mum turned out to be able to throw the sock-ball surprisingly far, which Bronwyn seemed to like. She still brought her "prey" back to Loki every time, but she started to swoop low over Mum and Dad's heads as she flew around, making Mum utter little startled shrieks of laughter. 

"Look at that," she exclaimed, as Bronwyn hovered for a moment before diving talons-first onto her "prey." 

"She does that a lot," Loki replied. 

"I don't think I've ever seen our other owls hunting," Mum admitted. "I wonder if they can hover, too?" 

Bronwyn might have been bored without the owls and activity of Hogwarts, because she played for quite a long time before ending the game as usual by leaving the sock-ball abandoned in the snow and flying away. By this time Loki and his parents were cold, and it seemed like a good idea to come inside and have a drink of hot cocoa in the library. 

"When Thor comes home this afternoon, we'll put up the Christmas tree and decorate the house," Mum said. The family had always waited for Thor to come home from school before they decorated, and even this year he was the last one to arrive. Mum looked at Loki. "I don't know if you noticed the tree in the garage, the night you came home. It's a really lovely fir." Loki hadn't, but he was sure it would be beautiful, and the smell of the tree would make it really feel like Christmas. 

Thor arrived home just before teatime, stepping out of the fireplace in the dining room and dragging his trunk and his barn owl, Solomon, with him. Loki was in the sitting area at the other end from the table, by the front windows, helping his mother sort out decorations. She scrambled to her feet with a cry of welcome as Thor appeared, and went over to hug him. Thor looked embarrassed but not displeased at her reaction. 

Loki stayed where he was. Last year he had gone rushing up to Thor like a puppy, so glad to see him after all those weeks, and Thor had barely acknowledged him. This year, of course, he had seen quite a bit of Thor from a distance, and more than enough of him up close, so all he did was wave to his brother and return to his task. 

"I'm going to help Thor take his trunk to his room," Mum called to Loki. Of course, even if he knew a hover charm, Thor couldn't use it outside school, certainly not with either of their parents right there to see him do it. So one of them had to help with his trunk. 

"Okay," Loki said. "I can take Solomon out to the owl room, if you want." He was careful about his tone, trying to avoid the old eager-to-please attitude he knew he once displayed toward his brother. He was offering to be helpful so his mother wouldn't think he was being babyish or sulking about Thor, not because he thought helping Thor would make his brother finally like him. Professor Sprout was right, Loki couldn't do anything to control how Thor felt. But his mother liked him, and he didn't want to do anything to put that at risk.

"Sure," Thor said carelessly. And then, "Thanks," he added, when Mum gave him a sharp look.

The best thing about Loki taking Solomon outside was, of course, he was able to stay in the owl room and visit with Bronwyn and the other owls for a while. Loki must have lost track of time a little bit, because suddenly Dad was calling up the stairs from the garage, 

"Loki? Are you up there?"

Loki went to the top of the stairs. "I'm here," he called back. 

"Good. We're ready to bring the tree into the house and start to decorate it. Come join us."

Loki clattered down the stairs to join his father and brother on the ground floor. Dad and Thor carried the tree while Loki ran ahead to open and close doors for them. Mum and Bindi had rearranged the furniture in the dining room, and Dad set up the tree in front of the windows.

"All right," Mum said. "What if Loki, Bindi and I work on decorating the tree, and Thor and Dad put up the other decorations around the house?" Loki nodded quickly, relieved. Dad had been very nice this morning when they were with the owls, but Loki was still a little nervous at the idea of being alone with his father for any length of time. Mum and Bindi were a lot less intimidating.

"What a good idea," Dad agreed. "Thor? Come along." Thor looked startled at not being asked his opinion at all, which also surprised Loki. 

And then it occurred to him that, possibly, the division was also meant to give Dad and Thor a chance to have the sort of conversation Loki had been having with both his parents since he came home. Loki couldn't help it, he badly wanted to know what they were going to talk about. 

The tree was half-decorated when Loki excused himself to go to the lavatory. He left the dining room, closing the door softly after himself. Dad and Thor were decorating the entry hall and talking earnestly together. They didn't notice Loki crossing the hall-- he could be very quiet and inconspicuous when he wanted to be. 

He went through the kitchen and utility room to the ground-floor lavatory. 

And then, on the way back, Loki paused at the kitchen door and cracked it open a tiny bit.

Loki knew perfectly well he had no business listening to other people's conversations. It was a terrible, deceitful thing to do and he knew it, but the temptation was too much for him to resist. It sounded as if Dad and Thor were at the foot of the stairwell, and Thor's voice was lowered but still quite easy to hear: 

"He doesn't even care if I'm around, he just spends all his time with those rotten little _Hufflepuffs."_

Dad sighed, then replied patiently, "Thor, Loki is in first-year, and he is in Hufflepuff. Of course his friends are in first year and in Hufflepuff, too. Your mother tells me they seem to be very nice children. Are you honestly trying to tell me that you would prefer your brother was lonely and trailing after you?" Dad paused. "And if he _did_ follow you around, are you telling me you wouldn't mind?"

Thor was silent for a long moment. Loki could almost see him squirming, and in spite of himself, from years of habit, he felt a little sorry for his brother. Finally, Thor replied, 

"He didn't come anywhere near me at first. It was like… he didn't care if I was around or not."

"So you wanted him to be with you. You mean you wanted to show him around Hogwarts, and answer his questions, and help him get settled and learn his way?"

"Um," Thor muttered. 

"Did you seek him out?" Dad asked, beginning to sound impatient. Thor was silent. "Did you give him any sign you wanted contact with him? He never played with you and your friends, or went around with you in the summers. Had you ever invited him?" Loki wondered whether Dad thought Loki had lied to him, or if this was just a way to give Thor a chance to tell the story his own way. Thor still said nothing, and Dad persisted, "Did you tell him things would be different now, that you wanted him to come to you with his questions and his worries?"

"I shouldn't have to-- he should _know_ \-- " Thor protested feebly. 

"How?" Dad snapped. "How could he possibly-- ?" Dad cut himself off sharply and started over: "If you wanted him to know he could come to you for advice and help, you should have told him so. And you should have sought him out for yourself, instead of waiting for him to come to you-- despite what I understand is a history of being rebuffed when he does." 

Loki remembered his brother getting up from the Gryffindor table and walking away as Loki approached. Had that been a test, to see whether Loki _would_ scamper after him like a puppy? Well, if it had been, Loki had failed. That might be why Thor was angry at him the next time they met. 

Loki waited for the rush of regret for his lost chance, and was mildly surprised when nothing happened. There would have been more tests if he had passed that one. He would have had to earn every scrap of attention, would have had to look ridiculous in front of the whole school as payment. He just didn't want Thor's attention _that_ much.

And he didn't believe Thor had really wanted him, anyway, not to give help and advice to the way Becky did with Annie. Thor might have told himself he did, but Dad was right: if he meant it, he would have come to Loki first, or at least made it a little easier by not being surrounded all the time by people who despised Loki. Thor had wanted Loki to take the tests, but Loki didn’t believe there really would have been any reward for him if he had passed. 

Or maybe there would have been, at least until Thor got tired of playing the model big brother and punished Loki for not knowing he had changed his mind. 

There was a long enough silence that Loki started to feel uneasy about getting back to the dining room before Mum came looking for him. Then Thor said, 

"If he was just in Gryffindor, everything would be-- Why is he even _in_ \-- You didn't _see_ him at the Sorting, Dad. He sat there _forever_ until the Hat said 'Hufflepuff.' He didn't even _want_ to be in Gryffindor."

Loki held his breath at that, but Dad was having none of it. "Even if that is true-- and unless you've asked him you have no way of knowing-- what of it? Loki knows the reputations of the houses. If he took a fancy to Hufflepuff and asked to be put there, the Hat still would not have done it if it had seemed a bad fit."

"But he was supposed to be-- We're all-- "

"Gryffindors, yes. And I admit, I would have expected Loki to _want_ to be in Gryffindor, too, at least at first. But either the Hat decided he belonged elsewhere, or Loki did, or both. The important thing is, he's obviously happy. That's all that concerns me about Hufflepuff. 

"What _does_ concern me are these reports from Professor Coulson about how you're treating your brother. I can't begin to tell you how surprised and disappointed your mother and I were to receive them. We will not tolerate you being deliberately unkind like this, and especially not to your brother." There was a pause, and Dad went on, more quietly, "You are our first-born, and I don't have words to tell you how much we love you. The only person in the world your mother and I love as we love you is Loki, and we want _both_ of you to be happy. He's the only brother you will ever have-- and someday, when you're an old man like me, you may find yourself very glad indeed to have him." 

"But I can't-- they won't even let me _talk_ to him unless there's a teacher right there," Thor protested. "It's… it's _embarrassing."_

"I agree," Dad said tightly. "Have you had difficulty finding a teacher when you want to speak to your brother?" Silence. "Have you _tried?"_

_"He_ hasn't," Thor mumbled. 

"No, I suppose he hasn't," Dad mused. Loki winced at his tone, but it was much kinder when he went on, "You're the elder, Thor. And it sounds as if your brother has already tried, and you punished him for not trying when and how you wanted him to. It's up to you now, and if you want him to trust you, you'll have to earn it. It's a hard thing to admit, I know, but it's the truth." There was another pause, broken by peculiar snuffling noises, and then Dad said gently, "Come along, let's take a little break." 

Loki suddenly heard the sound of them coming toward the kitchen. He hastily scooted into the utility room, then out its back door into the garden. Ducked down so as not to be seen, he scurried across the terrace to the door that led into the entry hall and then quickly returned to the dining room.

Mum and Bindi looked up as he came through the door. 

"I was just about to come looking for you," Mum remarked. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, fine thank you," Loki mumbled, and hurried to help finish the tree. 

~oOo~

Thor was quieter than usual for the next few days. In spite of that-- or, Loki thought rather guiltily, maybe because of it, since it gave Loki a lot more chance to be paid attention-- Christmas was enjoyable. Bindi and his parents all seemed pleased with the sachets Loki had made for them-- he had made one for Thor, too, of course, but it was hard to tell if Thor liked it. 

Bindi adored her hat and mittens. In fact she wore the hat all Christmas Day, along with a blue cardigan that was nearly the same colour. She even used the mittens to protect her hands when she was taking the turkey out of the oven, so it really did look like Christmas dinner was being served by a giant budgie. 

Bronwyn was supposed to carry a formal invitation to visit to Mitchell on Boxing Day, but Loki sent her off on Christmas Day with thank-yous to his friends for their gifts. Annie had given-- perhaps even made-- him a knitted rat for Bronwyn to pounce on. Mitchell gave him a card game that was much like Exploding Snap, except the cards all had owls on them, and instead of exploding at the crucial moment they would simply fly away. And George sent a Muggle book called _The Hobbit,_ which was-- at least to begin with-- a story about a little man who lived in an underground house very much like the Hufflepuff basement.

When Mum and Dad came up to wish Loki goodnight at the end of the day, both of them smelled of peppermint and lavender and Dad was wearing the dark gray cardigan from the Muggle store. They kissed him goodnight and Loki fell asleep almost at once. 

On Boxing Day, Mum and Dad always had a cocktail party for their colleagues from St. Mungo's and the Ministry. It started quite late in the evening, and in past years Loki was always sent to bed before the guests began to arrive. He remembered when Thor was too young to stay up to greet the guests either-- the two of them used to sneak halfway down the stairs to watch the guests arrive. The next day, there would always be leftover snacks and things the brothers would have for lunch. 

This year, Loki was also old enough to stay up for the first bit of the party, which was rather exciting. He put on his dress robes and hurried downstairs ahead of Thor, and then had to stay out of the way while Bindi and Mum made sure everything was ready in the dining room. The tree was lit, the table was covered with plates of food, and when the first guests arrived Loki was standing with his mother while Thor stood on Dad's other side.

Mum had warned him that, despite what Thor used to tell him, this really would not be a very amusing party, mostly just grownups eating and talking to each other. 

"We just want to show you boys off a little," Mum explained, straightening the collar of his robe and smoothing down his already-smoothed hair. "Since you're both so handsome." Loki thought about Thor, tall like Dad and golden like Mum, and then his skinny black-haired self. He must have looked doubtful, because Mum smiled and repeated, _"Both_ of you. Now, the first guests will arrive around nine-- probably the Smethwycks, because they don't like to stay out very late anymore, so they always arrive on time and don't stay very long. I'd like for you and Thor to be here until nine-thirty or so, but if you're bored you don't have to stay any longer. Bindi can give you some snacks to take upstairs with you, and Dad and I will look in to say goodnight at ten-thirty. All right?"

"All right," Loki agreed. He had gotten to quite an exciting part of his new book and wanted to read some more before George came to visit the next day. Mum smiled and kissed the top of his head. She was doing that a lot this holiday. 

Mum had told the truth, the party really wasn't very interesting. Mr. Smethwyck remembered Loki as "the Hufflepuff," and everyone else said hello quite politely, but even Thor, who could at least talk sensibly about Quidditch, had very little to say to most of the adults. 

There were a few exceptions. Madame and Mr. Romanov, who both worked with the Department of International Magical Cooperation, looked interested when Mum introduced Loki and mentioned he had just finished his first term at Hogwarts. 

"I suppose you do not know our daughter, Natasha?" Madame Romanov asked, in careful English. "She is also in her first year at Hogwarts."

Loki felt his face get hot, but he replied, "I do know her. We have some classes together. She's… she's very smart." He didn't know what else he could say, since Natasha had clearly not told her parents anything about him. He didn't like to say he liked her, even though it was true, in case that made her parents ask her about him and embarrassed her. Luckily, the Romanovs didn't notice his discomfort as they moved along to speak to someone else. 

Most of the guests were, of course, around the same age as Loki's parents. There were a few exceptions: Harry Potter and his wife and Hermione Granger and her husband-- who turned out to be the younger of the brothers who ran Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes-- were the same age as Mr. Longbottom, which wasn't _that_ old. They arrived together, and when the boys were introduced to them Mr. Potter immediately asked about "Neville."

"Mr. Longbottom, I mean," he amended, when his wife poked him. Loki and Thor said he was helping teach Herbology.

"And flying," Loki added. He blushed as the four adults looked at him in surprise. "He's been helping Madame Hooch with us first-years."

_"Neville?"_ demanded Mr. Weasley, looking startled. This time it was his turn to get poked by his wife. 

"He said you were a much better flyer than he was," Loki remembered, speaking to Mr. Potter. 

"But _he_ was a much better dancer," Mr. Potter's wife remarked into her drink, and all four of them burst into giggles. 

"He's _still_ a much better dancer," Mr. Potter laughed.

"You said it," Mrs. Potter agreed.

The jokes weren't very funny, really-- unless you'd been friends for a long time and they were part of your old stories. When Thor and his friends were as old as Mr. Potter and his, they would have a lot of jokes and stories like these. 

Maybe Loki and his friends would, too. It was nice to think about the possibility of himself being part of a group that knew they could count on each other, even years after they'd all left school. 

Thinking about that, Loki squirmed a little inside. 

If he wanted to be part of a group of friends who trusted each other, maybe he should start by showing some trust of his own. 

~oOo~

"So, your dad," Mitchell said quietly. "Not as scary as I was expecting."

The four friends were in the upstairs reception room, sitting on the floor at a low round table, playing Owl Snap. There was a plate of ginger biscuits sitting in the middle of the table, part of the baking Bindi had offered to teach them. Annie, of course, had already mastered cooking at this level, which was a good thing because Loki, George, and Mitchell (well, not so much George) had needed a lot of supervision. Still, they had managed to produce a batch of acceptable-looking custard creams to be shared at tea, and another of the ginger biscuits, half of which were also in the kitchen waiting to be shared. 

"He's been really nice this Christmas," Loki admitted, and then flinched. "I mean, it's not that he's _not,_ it's just, you know-- "

"He's a little bit terrifying," Mitchell completed the thought. 

"I don't think he can help it," Loki offered. 

"I wonder if that's why Professor Fury left the Ministry?" George wondered, reaching for another biscuit. Everyone looked at him. "I mean, no offense, Loki, but he and your dad would have looked like the world's scariest set of bookends. Maybe they decided one of them had to retire or everyone at the Ministry would die of terror. Maybe they drew straws."

"Maybe there's really a hobbit living in the Hufflepuff basement," Annie said. Before anyone else could speak again, she added, "How's Thor been, this holiday?"

Loki wrinkled his nose a little bit. "I don't… I'm not…" He organized the cards in front of him into a tidier pile. "He's been awfully quiet. Dad talked to him-- "

"Good," Annie nodded. 

"-- and I think he's probably kind of upset about that," Loki admitted, fidgeting with his cards.

"And isn't that too bad," George said sharply. 

"I think he wants me to go away, except not go away," Loki explained helplessly, and was relieved when his friends looked just as confused as he felt. 

It might have been their shared expression, or it might just have been that, now he was home, he kept thinking about his secret, and it felt like a weight in his chest when he remembered it. 

Whatever the reason, Loki suddenly found himself leaning forward. 

"And maybe he's right, anyway," he said. 

"What do you mean?" Mitchell asked. 

Loki glanced over his shoulder at the door. It was slightly ajar, but they were sitting so far away from it that surely their conversation couldn't be overheard. He lowered his voice anyway. 

"I mean… can you keep a secret?" he asked.

Annie looked rather stern. "What kind of a secret?" Loki stared at her, and she insisted, "If someone's hurting you, or anything like that, you should tell somebody. I can't keep a secret like that."

"You sound exactly like Professor Sprout," Loki muttered. 

"Thank you," Annie replied, with dignity. 

"Nobody's hurting me," Loki told her. "It's… please, Annie, you have to promise not to tell anyone." Annie looked very closely at him, and then nodded. Loki chewed his lower lip. "I've… I've been telling you all lies," he admitted, getting the worst part out of the way first. 

"What kind of lies?" Annie asked, her face falling. 

Loki nearly lost his courage, but he made himself continue:

"I'm… I'm not… My mum and dad aren't my real parents. They adopted me. My, my real parents are in Azkaban. Annie, that's why I wanted to look up Dark sorcerers. I wanted to find out about… about-- "

"Oh, wow," George said, leaning forward a little. Loki felt grateful that he leaned toward Loki instead of away. He didn't dare look at Annie.

"Oh, _Loki,"_ Annie said, and reached over to pat him on the arm. "I'm sorry I got angry at you."

Loki blinked. "You're not angry _now?"_ he whispered. Annie shook her head. "But I… but I lied to you. I didn't even tell you the truth after I promised not to lie anymore."

Annie flapped her hands. "That's not lying, though. I mean, it's your own private personal business, and it doesn't change who you are. It's not like you got adopted _after_ we met you."

"That _would_ be a little weird," Mitchell spoke up. 

"You know what I mean," Annie insisted. "If something really big happened to one of us _now,_ I'd be kind of hurt if the person didn't tell us about it. But Loki, you're still Loki Odinson, and you always have been since we've known you." She frowned. "And your parents _are_ your parents. There are probably lots of kids at Hogwarts who got adopted after the war-- I wish someone had adopted Clint and his brother-- and that doesn't meant _they_ aren't who _they_ are." 

Loki found himself a little tangled up in Annie's last sentence, but he was too relieved by her attitude to complain. Still--

"There probably aren't _lots of kids_ whose parents are in Azkaban, though," he pointed out fearfully. 

Mitchell shrugged. "There might be, though. Lots of Death Eaters had kids, after all." Loki remembered what Professor Sprout had said, about the unusually high number of nasty kids in Slytherin around the time of the war, because they were the children of parents who taught them to follow Voldemort's ideas. Mitchell went on, "I mean, I can't imagine anyone with _little_ kids joining him and, you know, starting a _war,_ but my parents and yours, Loki, fought on the other side once the war started, and _they_ had little kids."

"It's not the same thing, though," George protested. "Voldemort _started_ it."

Mitchell shrugged again. "Well, maybe if you were a Death Eater, you figured it was worth it. That once all the Muggles and everyone were properly under control and all the power was in the hands of people like you, your kids would benefit."

Annie raised her eyebrows. "Don’t let Professor Fury catch you saying that." She glanced at George. _"Or_ Loki's dad."

Mitchell made a face. "I didn't say I _agreed_ with them. Only that there probably were Death Eaters with little kids, and probably some of those kids got adopted, or went into foster care like Clint and Barney, and they're at Hogwarts right now. Maybe _I'm_ adopted, you never know."

His friends all looked at him, before George said, "Awfully big coincidence, then, that you were adopted by someone who _looks just like you."_

"Maybe they picked me because I _matched,"_ Mitchell retorted, which sounded so ridiculous that all four of them burst out laughing. 

When they stopped, Annie turned to Loki. "It's like I said in the library, about Bruce-- his parents weren't in the book about the good side, so maybe they were just minding their own business, or maybe they were on the Dark side. But _Bruce_ is _good._ His auntie must be a good person, so he's growing up learning to be good. Loki, your dad is _scary,_ but he's _good,_ and so is your mother. Except, you know, not scary." She considered. "Even Thor, I mean, he's nasty to you, but he seems to be nice in other ways. Anyway, what I mean is, it doesn't matter what parents you were born with. Maybe they were awful-- "

Loki shuddered, remembering what Professor Fury had told him. "They were."

"-- but _you're not._ Maybe-- maybe that's why the Hat put you in Hufflepuff," she said suddenly. "Not to make you _good,_ but maybe it could tell you were upset about all this, and it decided Professor Sprout would be the best person to be in charge of you. I mean, really," she appealed to the other two boys, "imagine if we were all in some other house. Would you have wanted to go to one of the other heads when we thought Loki needed help?"

"I'd go to Professor Slughorn," George said. 

"Okay, yes, I would, too," Annie admitted. "But I still think Professor Sprout is, is the most _practical_ person to go to, if someone was in trouble or felt bad." Everyone nodded at that.

"That wasn't the reason, though," Loki said, without thinking. His friends looked curiously at him, and he felt his face heat up. "I asked it to put me in Gryffindor. Because, because-- "

"-- because of your family, yeah," Mitchell agreed. "It wanted to put _me_ in Gryffindor, for about a minute, and I held out for Hufflepuff because _my_ family has always been in Hufflepuff. It's perfectly understandable, you had no way of knowing which house really was the best until you got put in it." 

Loki made a face at him. "Anyway, I kind of… I knew I really don't belong in Gryffindor, but I asked anyway, and it asked me what I _wanted,_ and… and I thought about all of us on the train, all the first-years, being friends. And it put me in Hufflepuff."

George frowned at him. "Really, Loki, the fact you didn't think about ruling the world or turning your brother into a toad should be all the proof you need that you aren't going to turn Dark."

"Good point," Mitchell snickered. 

Annie looked thoughtful. "Do your mum and dad know you worry about this?"

Loki felt himself go pale. "No. They don't know I know, I found out by accident, and I've never-- you can't say anything about it. Please."

Annie stared at him. "They don't _know_ you know you're adopted?" 

Loki shook his head. "I, I don't know what to do about it. How to talk to them about it. _If_ I should talk to them about it. That's why I asked you to keep it a secret."

He must have looked as frantic as he felt, because Annie picked up the plate of biscuits and offered it to him. 

_"That_ secret, we can keep," she promised, and looked at George and Mitchell. "Right?"

"Right," agreed Mitchell, and George nodded. 

And then they all had another biscuit.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** Short transitional chapter, moving into what I think of as the third act of this story. We'll see what I come up with.
> 
>  **Warnings:** None I can think of.

The night before he and Thor were to return to Hogwarts, Loki packed his trunk with everything except his floppy rhinoceros and his clothes for the next day. He took a bath, brushed his teeth, and then returned to his room, walking quietly as he passed Thor's. 

Mum and Dad had made several efforts over the past days to involve the brothers in activities together, but nothing had really worked out. Thor seemed kind of offended at Loki's existence, while Loki found it a lot more enjoyable to concentrate on sending notes back and forth to his friends and playing with his owl. 

In spite of the tension with Thor, it really had been a nice holiday, one of the best Loki could remember. The day his friends had visited, Mitchell's parents had come to fetch them, having been invited by Loki's mum and dad to come to tea. The adults had complimented the biscuits, and then had gone into the library for a visit together, leaving the kids to play another board game in the dining room in front of the Christmas tree. 

When Loki showed George to the lavatory a little while later, they had heard laughter coming from the library. He wondered whether some of the adults' memories of the war might actually be funny, or if Mr. Mitchell was just like his son, able to turn almost anything into a joke.

Thor hadn't been much in evidence that day, appearing for tea but then vanishing back into his own room. Loki didn't know where he'd been for the early part of the afternoon, and he had to confess he didn't really care. 

A couple of days after Loki's friends visited him, he had been invited to visit them in return-- and it was "them," because the three families lived so close together, on a terrace in another part of the city, that the kids went from one house to the next all afternoon. Loki met all their parents. George, like Mitchell, was an only child, and his Muggle parents seemed to enjoy feeding people. George's dad was making a big pot of soup when the kids came through the kitchen door, and he shooed them into the lounge while he worked.

Loki hadn't been inside a Muggle home since he used to be invited to birthday parties in his first years in primary school. He was intensely curious about the books and ornaments (mostly souvenirs of seaside towns he had never visited) displayed on the shelves and in the book cases. There was also a collection of "record albums" on a shelf, next to the device that played them, and Loki looked at them in fascination.

"Isn't that the band Professor McGonagall likes?" he asked suddenly, pointing to _The Beatles_ printed on the cover of one of them.

"Yes, it is," George replied. "Do you want to listen to them?"

The music drew Mr. and Mrs. Sands to the lounge, where Loki discovered that some people's parents were very funny indeed when they danced. He also decided that Stark was right, this music was much better than the kind you heard on wizard radio: Celestine Warbeck and her "Cauldron of Hot Strong Love" wasn't nearly as much fun to jump up and down to as "She Loves You" and "I Want To Hold Your Hand." 

The four friends spent the afternoon running in and out of each other's houses up and down the terrace and playing with a lot of Muggle kids who lived nearby. The Muggles accepted Loki as a friend of the others' "from school," and let him participate in a lot of different games he had never played before. 

Loki had gotten home late, exhausted and very happy, eaten a couple of ginger biscuits as a snack, and then had gone up to bed. 

His parents went out to a party on New Year's Eve-- Mum looked so pretty in her violet dress robes that it was hard to believe she was anybody's mother-- and Thor was invited to stay overnight with Fandral. Loki and Bindi had baked a cake together, without any magic at all, and then watched part of an international ice hockey tournament in her parlour. Loki agreed the game was nearly as fast as Quidditch, just as Bindi had told him. He winced every time someone crashed into the boards that surrounded the playing surface, but aside from that it was a pretty exciting game. Loki had gone to bed at nearly the usual time, but Bindi woke him just before midnight and they had gone up onto the rooftop to watch a fireworks display put on by the neighbourhood.

One present Loki received from his parents was a camera. Thor had gotten one for Christmas in his first year at Hogwarts as well, and Loki was excited about the prospect of taking pictures of his friends at school. Dad had taken both boys down into the cellar to make the developing potion that would cause the pictures to move. The potion was tricky, and there was really nowhere to develop pictures at school, so Loki and Thor would send their films home by owl and Mum and Dad would send back the pictures. Still, it was fun to try mixing the potion, imagining how Professor Slughorn would evaluate his results if he was there to see. 

"That's quite a good effort," Dad was saying as he examined the contents of Loki's cauldron. "Not quite clear, but very close." He scooped up a dipperful of the potion and sniffed, nose wrinkling. "And it should smell a little more like rotten eggs-- " which was why they were making the potion in the cellar instead of the kitchen. "Still, I think this will at least produce images, which is very good for a first try. Wouldn't you say so, Thor?"

Thor muttered noncommittally. His own potion, a stinking brew, was almost perfect, but of course Thor was in fourth year and Loki only in first. Loki decided he was pleased with his own results anyway. 

Mum and Bindi had been taking pictures all through the holiday, and Dad brought out one of the films for them to practice on. Loki's potion produced a still image of Bindi in her budgie hat and blue cardigan, standing in the kitchen. Thor's resulted in one of Mum and Dad, dressed up for the New Year's party, waltzing slowly around the entry hall. 

Dad's potion, perfectly clear and horribly smelly, made an image emerge of Loki and his friends standing together in the snowy back garden, pink-cheeked and breathless and waving at the camera-- until Bronwyn swooped through the picture and grabbed Loki's knitted hat from his head.

Dad smiled at the picture and made a second copy for himself and Mum to keep, before he used his wand to clear the cauldrons and they went upstairs to report on how things had turned out. 

Today, the last day of the holiday, the family had spent quietly together, making sure the boys clothing was clean and their trunks packed, and then playing board games in shifting teams for most of the afternoon.

It had been a wonderful holiday, and Loki was very conscious of having everything he ever wanted-- not toys or presents, but things that were really important. It gave him a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Now, packed and washed and already torn between eagerness to get back to Hogwarts and missing his parents and Bindi already, Loki paused before getting into bed. Mum had been downstairs in the library when Loki started upstairs, and after wrestling with himself for a couple of minutes, Loki put on his dressing-gown and went softly down the staircase to the ground floor. 

The library door was ajar, and Mum was sitting on the sofa, looking over parchments. She had taken some time away from work while the boys were home, but she caught up on her reading at night, and would be back at the hospital the next day after dropping Loki and Thor at the train. 

She didn't notice him right away, and after a fidgety moment Loki called out softly, 

"Mummy?" He didn't know why he used that babyish word again, but there was nobody but her to hear him. She looked up.

"Loki, I thought you had gone up to bed," she said. But she held out her arms to him so he knew she wasn't scolding, and Loki scooted across the room to join her on the sofa. Mum folded her arms around him. "What is it?"

"I... I was thinking," he faltered, leaning back against his mother. "About Clint Barton and his brother?"

"The boys you bought the presents for," Mum said, to show she remembered. Loki nodded. "What about them, sweetheart?" 

"I, I... I just... they don't have _anybody,"_ he said. "They, they live in a foster home, only it's really not a _home_ because nobody wanted them for the holidays, and, and... I just wondered if, if you could do anything to help them." It occurred to him that, since Dad worked at the Ministry, he probably should have spoken to his father about this. It was just that Mum _looked after people_ at the hospital, so it seemed like she would know what to do, to make things better for the brothers. And anyway, he was finding he could talk to Mum more easily. He _wanted_ to be able to talk to his father, and he thought maybe Dad wanted to talk to him, too, but words still froze in his throat sometimes when it was Dad.

Mum tightened her arms around Loki and pressed her lips against the back of his head, where his hair was still damp from being washed. "Sweetie, it's very kind of you to be so concerned about them... but can I ask you, is there a _reason_ you are?"

"... not really," Loki whispered. He couldn't _tell_ her why he was so bothered. He supposed it was silly, really, since Professor Fury had told him that his parents had nothing to do with the Bartons, and Professor Fury had no reason to lie to him. 

Still, though. he felt like he _owed_ it to them. Or to _someone,_ anyway. His parents-- his _other_ parents-- they had done terrible things to _someone,_ and it must have been their friends (if you could say Death Eaters were friends with each other, which Loki wasn't sure you could) who had killed Clint's mother and father. And even though they were in Azkaban now, Loki didn't think being _punished_ was exactly the same as _making up for_ what they had done. 

Loki just felt like someone _should_ try to make up for it, and there was nobody to do it but him.

And he couldn't tell his mother that.

"You just want them to be helped," Mum said. 

Loki nodded, and then he offered, "That time, when Professor Sprout talked to me? When, when I was so upset about Thor? My friends talked to her, because they wanted someone to help me. I just, I wanted-- " _("you waaaaaaanted")_ \-- "it would be, be good if someone could help them, too. And I thought maybe you-- "

Mum kissed him on the head again. "All right. I'll see what I can do. It certainly seems as if someone should have taken better care, to be sure they were safe and looked after. I'll see what I can do." She smoothed down his hair, hesitated, and then said quietly, "I promise."

"Okay," Loki said. "Thank you." 

He sat with his mother for a few minutes longer, leaning against her, before he finally said goodnight and went back upstairs to bed. 

~oOo~

The Hogwarts Express left at eleven the next morning, just as it had in September. Loki briefly tried to recall the state of mind he had been in, that morning, but it was hard to do, and he didn't really want to. 

When they got to the platform, Loki hugged his parents and headed straight for the baggage car, without waiting for Thor or anything. He was looking for his friends, or any of the first-years, and found Ian and Pippa right away.

"Are we going to look for an open carriage again?" Ian asked, as he let a porter take his trunk. Pippa nodded, and Loki said goodbye to Bronwyn and agreed that was a good idea. They found Annie, George, Mitchell, Dennis, and a lot of other first-years and swarmed into the first open carriage they found. Rhodes and a Ravenclaw prefect sent a few more first-years their way as they arrived. By the time the train left the station, the whole carriage was filled with first-years, waving out the windows to their families, and Loki had no idea at all where his brother was. 

He was starting to feel a little bit guilty about how little he cared about that, actually. 

He didn't have much time to worry about whether he was being unfair to Thor, though: he was much too busy catching up with the rest of the first-years. Dennis had gotten a wonderful book about owls for Christmas, and a promise that he could have one of his own for second-year, after he decided what kind he liked best. He was pretty torn between a short-ear like Bronwyn and a tawny, but he had time to think about his decision. 

Loki and Dennis were talking about owls-- Loki was trying very hard not to push his own preference onto his friend-- when Darcy, Jane, and Natasha came over to sit across the aisle from them. 

"Hi," Natasha said bluntly. 

"Did you have a nice Christmas?" Jane asked, leaning forward. Darcy and Natasha rolled their eyes a little and Jane blushed. 

"It was good, thanks," Loki answered Jane's question. "How was yours?"

"It was great, and Natasha wants to talk to you," Darcy spoke up bluntly. Jane glared at her cousin, but sat back and let Natasha take over. 

"My mother and father went to a party at your parents' house," Natasha said. "On Boxing Day." 

Loki nodded. "I met them. They seemed nice." That was a bit of an overstatement, since they had spoken for less than a minute, but Loki had no reason to suspect the Romanovs _weren't_ nice.

"They said the same thing about you," Natasha replied. "They asked if you and I were friends." She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "My parents are very practical, and perhaps they think it would be a good thing, if I had a friend whose mother and father are important people. But they also said you were very polite, and my mother thought you were a nice boy."

"Oh," Loki muttered, confused about why they were having this conversation, and a little anxious. "And what did you tell them?"

"I said we had classes together but I didn't know you very well," she replied. Darcy let out an annoyed huffing noise. Natasha ignored her. "I didn't tell them that I had decided not to be your friend because I am already Clint's. They like Clint-- well, I think they feel sorry for him-- but they dislike Barney very much, and I don't think they would consider it a good trade, to give up a nice friend with good parents in favour of Clint."

"They wouldn't try to make you stop being friends with Clint, though, right?" Loki said anxiously. 

Natasha shrugged. "I don't think they would cry if it happened. But Clint was my first friend when I came to Britain, and even though I am foreign he never made fun of me. I don't like his brother either, but Clint is my friend." 

"I know that," Loki pointed out. "You said that already, when you told me you wouldn't be friends with me."

"Why are you telling him all this?" Annie demanded. Loki also wondered what point there was in this exchange.

Natasha looked a little uncomfortable. "My mother is right: you are a nice boy. And you did nothing to Clint." She shrugged again, only this time it was more of an uncomfortable wriggle. "It isn't fair to you, and it is probably bad for Clint, too, for him to treat you as an enemy for no good reason. I chose to take his side, but there are other students who have chosen you, and he is apt to find himself very lonely if this keeps up."

"I hadn't thought of that," Loki said. He should have, really: except for Natasha, he realized he hadn't lost any friends over his problem with Clint. It gave him a funny warm feeling, to realize some kids who weren't even in Hufflepuff had picked him. And then he felt guilty for feeling that way. 

"Clint hasn't, either, but if he keeps on being your enemy he's going to realize it soon. I could speak to him," she said quietly. "I could talk to him about trying to fix things between you. Would you agree to that?"

Loki looked down at his hands for a moment. He wasn't angry at Clint. Except for that one upsetting confrontation that still rang in his ears, Clint really hadn't done anything to him. He hadn't even asked Natasha to stop being friends with Loki, Natasha had done that herself out of loyalty. It was hard to blame either of them for that.

Loki was plenty mad at Thor, but he wasn't at Clint, and he didn't want Clint to be his enemy. 

"Okay," he said. "I'd like to be friends with Clint, if he'll agree to it." 

"Good," said Natasha. "I'll speak to him." She got up, giving Darcy and Jane a commanding look. Darcy rolled her eyes and grabbed her cousin by the arm. 

"See you in class," Jane called, as she was dragged back down the carriage with the other girls. 

Loki found all the Hufflepuff first-years looking at him. "What?"

George grimaced. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Loki felt his face flush. "What do you mean?" he asked in annoyance. "You're not scared to trust her because she's in Slytherin, are you?"

George looked more puzzled than offended. "Of course not." 

Loki suddenly felt embarrassed, remembering that, despite growing up with wizard friends, George was Muggle-born, so there were certain kinds of assumptions he wouldn't have learned from his family.

And then Loki thought maybe instead of "family," what he really meant was "brother," because most of the ideas about houses he'd brought to Hogwarts with him were from Thor in the first place. That was enough to make him feel another flash of anger at his brother. He remembered being so scared about Slytherin, you would have thought it was a houseful of monsters. He wondered how much of that silliness Thor actually believed, and how much was just to scare his stupid little brother. 

He shook his head to shake out the thought and looked at George, who was frowning at him.

"I just meant," George said, "that maybe you don't want to stir Clint up. Maybe he'll just get over being upset at you by himself, if you leave him alone."

"Or maybe he'll get into the habit, and we'll spend seven years here at Hogwarts with a big weird rift in the first-year class," Mitchell spoke up. "Face it, that could easily happen-- he's stubborn, and we're stubborn-- " Loki was grateful for the _we_ instead of _Loki_ \-- "and the longer something dumb like this goes on the harder it'll be to get over."

Loki winced, imagining himself and Thor spending the rest of their lives in awkward silence at family events, neither of them willing to make the first move. And then he felt another surge of resentment, because he _had_ , he had _tried_ to be friends with Thor, and Thor wouldn't let him, and now it was _Thor's turn_ to do something if he wanted them to be friendly. 

The resentment was followed by another uncomfortable feeling, as he realized he hadn't tried at all since Dad and Thor had talked to each other. Maybe Thor was a little shy of him now, and wanted him to make the first move. He'd been trying before, but in ways Thor didn't want, and at times Thor didn't want. Maybe it was his responsibility to try again. Only, how could he possibly know for sure?

He felt tired just thinking about it. 

George was looking worried now, and Loki decided to just do one thing at a time. He'd think about Thor later. Right now they were talking about Clint.

"Let's just... Natasha's going to talk to him, right?" Loki spoke up. "If he'll agree to try to be friendly, I'm happy to do it. It's not like I'm in Gryffindor and would be seeing him all the time anyway. If he's willing to not be weird and angry, I'm happy to not be weird either." 

There was a pause, and then Mitchell started to giggle. 

"Shut up," Loki said, giggling too. 

He settled down in his seat as the train carried them all back to Hogwarts.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which we have a new complication, Mitchell shows some trust of his own, and Loki gets some more food for thought.
> 
>  **Warnings:** None needed.

There was no welcome-back feast when the students returned to Hogwarts after Christmas. Instead, they were all ushered back to their common rooms and given a light supper before bedtime. Professor Sprout met her house in the Hufflepuff basement, told them she was very glad to see everyone again, and wished them pleasant dreams. Loki had left his lavender sachet under his pillow when he left for Christmas, so between the scent and being so tired he fell asleep at once. If his dreams weren't pleasant at least he didn't remember anything about them. 

Monday was the long day for first year. Hufflepuff started with double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Ravenclaw, then Herbology with Gryffindor before lunch, and then Transfiguration and Charms with Slytherin all afternoon. Clint stayed away from Loki and his friends in Herbology, but Loki didn't give up hope because Natasha wouldn't have had time to really talk to him yet. 

All the first years had a double free period just before lunch, which they now used for homework. Most of the students went to the library or back to their common rooms to study in that time. Loki and his friends went to the library, although they made a point of working at a table where you couldn't even see the Restricted section. 

Hufflepuff met Slytherin in the Transfiguration classroom after lunch. Loki and his friends took desks right in front of the ones occupied by Natasha, Darcy, and Ian. Loki glanced at Natasha as he sat down. She shook her head slightly. Professor Coulson came in just at that moment, and Loki hastily faced front. 

"Welcome back, everyone," Professor Coulson said, in his calm, oddly flat voice. Loki remembered what Annie had said about which head of house you would go to if you were worried about something. Loki liked Professor Coulson as a teacher, but he couldn't imagine approaching him with a problem, not the way you would Professor Sprout or even Mr. Longbottom. Maybe it would be different if you actually were in Gryffindor, but Loki found himself wondering whether he should ask Professor Sprout-- or maybe Mr. Longbottom, since he had been a Gryffindor himself-- to please speak to Clint about how he felt about things. 

He didn't have time to think very much about that idea, since Professor Coulson immediately set them to reviewing the last theory lesson they had before the holidays, and then to work on the theory behind switching spells, the most complicated spells they had encountered so far. The idea was to take two objects and turn each into the other simultaneously. Loki found the theory extremely confusing, and was grateful to Darcy because she kept putting up her hand to ask questions about things Loki hadn't even realized he had mixed up in his mind. 

Professor Coulson set the class to diagramming the spell, which they were going to practice the next morning in their double Transfiguration class. This class was nearly over when there was a knock at the classroom door. The professor stepped out to speak to the person-- Loki thought he recognized Rhodes's voice-- leaving the students to carry on work on their own. 

Natasha promptly leaned forward to poke Loki in the back. He turned around to see what she wanted. 

"I spoke to Clint before lunch, after his Herbology class," she said. Loki had been hoping her head shake meant she hadn't been able to catch him to speak to. 

"And he won't make it up with me?" he asked. 

"I am afraid not. Not yet," Natasha said. 

"He probably won't unless Thor does first," Loki said, without thinking, and then blushed. He hadn't meant to admit to Natasha that his own brother couldn't stand him. Although, really, he supposed the whole school, or at least the whole first-year class, knew that by now. 

"Perhaps not," Natasha agreed, and just at that the classroom door opened and Professor Coulson came back. The professor pulled out his pocket watch and consulted it. 

"All right, everyone-- according to the timetable, you have Charms together next, is that correct?" A few heads from each house nodded. "Good. Pack up your things, Mr. Rhodes will be escorting you to your class."

Loki and his friends exchanged surprised glances. Nobody asked for an explanation, because Professor Coulson wasn't the sort of teacher whose statements you questioned. Instead, they gathered their belongings and followed Rhodes to the Charms classroom. Darcy tried to ask the prefect what was going on, and was shushed in an abrupt way that wasn't at all like even-tempered Rhodes.

Professor Flitwick seemed distracted in class, which was also very unusual for him. And then Rogers and a sixth-year Slytherin prefect appeared at the end of the period, to accompany the Hufflepuffs to their common room and the Slytherins to Astronomy with Ravenclaw. 

"What's going on?" Darcy asked again, as soon as they were outside the classroom. Ordinarily, Rogers was the sort of prefect who would answer your questions, but this time he just shook his head. 

"I really don't know yet," he replied. "I was just told to look after you lot for now. Make sure you stay at your house tables at dinner, the prefects will be taking you back to your common rooms together afterward. The teachers will explain everything as soon as they can." He glanced around. "I'm not kidding, everyone. I don't know exactly what's going on right now, but whatever it is must be serious."

The bewildered first-years all nodded their agreement to obey, and Rogers walked alongside them, reassuringly tall and strong, as they made their way to the Hufflepuff basement. Rogers set them all to working on more homework, and Loki and his three friends gathered in the corner, on the carpet, to study their Transfiguration notes and whisper together. 

"What do you suppose it is?" Mitchell wondered. 

"You don't suppose some creature has gotten into the castle from the Forbidden Forest, do you?" George suggested nervously. The students were forbidden to go anywhere near the Forest unless they were accompanied by Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher and groundskeeper. The fact he was the _only_ teacher considered capable of keeping the students safe in the Forest served to impress the first-years with a sense of just how dangerous the place must be. 

"I hope not," Loki said. "My brother told me there are all kinds of terrible creatures that live in there."

"Really? Your _brother_ told you?" Mitchell replied, with polite disbelief. "If anything was likelier to make me believe the place is full of pussycats and little chirping birdies-- "

"Becky told me the same thing," Annie cut in. "About the terrible creatures. There's some kind of agreement between most of these creatures and the school, they don't come out after us if we don't go in after them. It's as much to make them feel safe as us-- they all pretty much trust Hagrid, but not other witches and wizards."

"So what would make one of them break the agreement?" Loki wondered. 

"It would have to be something pretty serious," George said. 

"Well, maybe the teachers are going to tell us at dinner," Mitchell said.

But when the prefects walked the whole house to the Great Hall for dinner, the head table was empty. 

A perfectly understandable buzz of questioning broke out, but the prefects had no answers so it began to die away. Then Mr. Filch, the school caretaker, who had apparently been left in charge, started to hush everyone, threatening them with detention if they so much as chewed too loudly. This, predictably, had the opposite effect to what he wanted: Mr. Filch always made it clear he hated the students (really, Loki thought, if _he_ ever took a job as a school caretaker, he would at least make an effort to not _hate all children)_ and the students returned the compliment. The angrier Mr. Filch got, the louder the conversations became. Before long the Great Hall was engulfed in a racket that made it almost impossible to actually hear what anyone else was saying. 

As the Hufflepuff prefects walked everyone back to the common room, Loki had a headache and was eaten up with both worry and curiosity. Both feelings got worse when the prefects left them again, apparently going to attend a meeting about the mysterious situation. Before they left, one of a seventh-year prefects, a boy called Macmillan, apologetically laid a charm on the exit-- the students would be able to escape in case of emergency, but would not be able to leave for any other reason. Loki tried very hard not to think of the charm as "imprisonment," but it wasn't easy.

The prefects returned at some point after Loki and the other first years, at least, had gone to bed, and they refused to speak about their meeting the next morning. By breakfast time-- the younger students shepherded to the Great Hall with all their books for the day in hand-- rumours were running wild through the school, most of them centred around the Forbidden Forest: 

Werewolves had left the forest and were skulking around the Quidditch pitch. ("Right," said Annie. "Because a _big flat open field_ is such a great place to hide." "They could be under the stands," George pointed out. "Think of the draperies around the uprights. _Anything_ could be under there." Loki tried very hard not to picture it.) 

Acromantulas, the giant spiders who lived deep within the Forbidden Forest, were building their enormous webs between the Gryffindor and astronomy towers. ("That's mental," Mitchell said. "I mean, yeah, they're not Ravenclaw, but not even _I_ think Gryffindors are thick enough to not notice _dirty great spiders_ climbing around outside their windows!") 

The giant squid who lived in the Black Lake had come squishing out of the water and was now lurking in the dungeons near the Slytherin common room. ("Didn't the squid rescue Stark when he crashed into the Lake?" Loki demanded. "That means it's _friendly,_ doesn't it?" "Maybe," George replied, "but that doesn't mean the Slytherins want it coming into their common room for a cup of tea and a biscuit." "Oh hey," Mitchell said, "did any of you bring any of those ginger biscuits back with them? I still have a few custard creams to trade you.")

The teachers filed in at last, to take their seats at the head table. Everyone gazed avidly at Hagrid, looking for any sign he had been fighting giant spiders or other strange and dangerous beasts. He was disappointingly unscathed. 

Professor McGonagall walked in last, her mouth set in a tense line that made Loki's shoulders clench just looking at her. She traded a glance with Professor Sprout, then walked around the front of the head table and waited. As the students realized she wanted to say something, the normal hubbub of breakfast time ebbed away until everyone was sitting quietly, eyes on the headmistress. 

"Good morning," Professor McGonagall said primly. "I realize you are all understandably eager to know why your movements have been so circumscribed since your return to Hogwarts." The students' attention was nearly a living thing, sitting in the middle of the room with its ears cocked tensely forward. Professor McGonagall said calmly, "I have been informed by the Ministry that, three days ago, seven prisoners attempted to break out of Azkaban."

Pandemonium. Loki grabbed the edge of the table and Annie put her hand over one of his. Meanwhile, there was a surge of noise from everywhere in the room, resolving into two questions: _"Who?"_ and _"How?"_

Professor McGonagall gestured for silence. Without raising her voice, she explained, 

"The attempt was made during a routine visit by healers-- " 

At a table behind Loki, either Gryffindor or Slytherin, he couldn't tell which, voices said loudly, "The Minister never should have removed the Dementors-- " and "They don't _deserve_ to have healers look after them-- " 

Professor Fury might have only had one eye, but there was nothing at all wrong with his hearing. He half-rose from his seat, and the voices died away. All Loki could think was that the attempted escape had happened while his mother was home with the family. If she hadn't asked for some time with him and Thor, she could have been one of the healers who were at the prison that day. 

Professor McGonagall carried on talking:

"None of the healers was injured. Four of the prisoners were apprehended immediately, but three were able to effect an escape. Their identities have not been revealed-- " she waited out the wave of protests-- "but only one of them is considered a risk to head in this direction, since he is from Scotland, while the other two are from southern England."

Professor McGonagall looked around, making eye contact with a number of the students who apparently seemed rebellious. Then she went on, with quiet intensity,

"It is vitally important that all of you remain alert, pay attention to the prefects, and do not take stupid risks until the Ministry captures these criminals." She sounded, Loki suddenly thought, as if she had some experience with students taking "stupid risks." Of course, Professor McGonagall had after all been teaching for a very long time, including through two wars. 

"The wards on the castle and grounds have been strengthened. Until further notice, all students in fourth year and below will be escorted to and from their classes by a prefect. Students in fifth year and above will proceed directly to their classes-- I am putting you all on your honour to do so. And unless you are accompanied by a teacher, all students will remain in your common rooms when not in class. Library study will be arranged for fifth- and seventh-year students preparing for OWLs and NEWTs." Loki swallowed, already feeling caged in. As much as he loved the Hufflepuff basement, he certainly didn't like the idea of never being able to leave it. 

"What about Quidditch?" Pippa whispered, wide-eyed with horror at the thought of anything disrupting the season. In spite of himself, Loki had to suppress a laugh: Muggle-born though she was, Pippa was as big an addict as Thor and his friends. 

Thinking of Thor gave Loki the urge to look around and see how his brother was taking all this. He stifled that, too. 

Professor McGonagall looked at the distressed faces before her, and softened a little. "Now, although we need to take sensible precautions, I don't want to create the impression the school is under siege. There is no particular reason to believe the escaped prisoner intends to come anywhere near Hogwarts. Therefore, extracurricular activities, including Quidditch, will take place as usual, under the supervision of teachers. A schedule of teachers for the various groups will be posted in each common room, and outdoor activities will be organized for those students who are not members of any club. I fully expect the escapee to be apprehended in short order and nowhere near here, but until such time as that occurs, you will all follow these measures." Her mouth primmed again. "I need hardly tell you that penalties for any disobedience in these matters will be severe." 

It was a very subdued group of students who left the Great Hall for their first classes. The Hufflepuff and Slytherin first-years found themselves rounded up by Professor Coulson in his border collie form-- which was, if anything, even more vigilant than Professor Coulson in his human form-- and escorted to the Transfiguration classroom. 

As he took his seat, Loki wrestled with two nearly equally strong impulses: to be good and not risk losing points for Hufflepuff, and to have an answer to his suddenly desperately pressing question. 

The need to _know_ won. Loki raised his hand as their teacher resumed his human form and turned toward the blackboard. 

"Yes, Mr. Odinson?" Professor Coulson said, nodding to him in acknowledgement. 

"Please, Professor Coulson-- _why_ wouldn't the Ministry say who has escaped?" Loki asked. Professor Coulson raised an eyebrow. Loki flinched, but stood his ground. "They must _know,"_ he insisted. "Since they know where the prisoners came from."

"That's true," Professor Coulson agreed. "They must."

"So why wouldn't they-- " one of the Slytherin boys spoke up. "I mean, if there are _Death Eaters_ running around loose-- " In spite of their usual respect for Professor Coulson's rules of order, a babble of anxious voices broke out, all asking the same kinds of questions.

Professor Coulson raised a hand, and everyone fell still as quickly as if he had cast a silencing charm on them.

"I assume the Ministry is keeping that information to itself to avoid panic," he said calmly, with a reproving look around the class. Loki hadn't joined in the outburst, but he felt himself shrink in embarrassment anyway. Professor Coulson went on, "I can't say I personally agree with that decision, since a lack of information can be more alarming than knowledge. However, none of the prisoners has been described as a Death Eater, and-- now that sentences no longer routinely end in insanity or death-- a fairly high proportion of the inmates of Azkaban are in there for perfectly ordinary civil crimes." Beside Loki, Mitchell shifted uneasily. The professor went on, "I'm not _saying_ the escapees were serving short sentences for minor or non-violent crimes, because I don't know. And, of course, any escaped prisoner has the potential to react violently if he or she is about to be captured. 

"Still, there is no benefit to speculating about exactly what kind of offense any of these individuals may have committed. The precautions being taken here at the school are aimed at minimizing the chances of any student or staff member having an encounter of any kind with these prisoners. So: let's all try to remain calm, shall we?" The expression on Professor Coulson's face made it clear his suggestion was more of a command. It was a subdued class who turned their attention to switching spells.

Professor Coulson stayed in his human form to escort the Hufflepuffs to Potions, but he was quite obviously not planning to answer questions. Professor Slughorn met the students at the classroom door and asked them to take their places and wait quietly for the Ravenclaws, who had been having double Charms with Gryffindor, to arrive. 

When Professor Slughorn said "quietly," he didn't mean "in perfect silence," but conversations were expected to be conducted in whispers. Unlike Mr. Filch, Professor Slughorn didn't resort to threats or demands, he simply made a reasonable request that everyone knew was really a command he could back up at any time if he needed to. Nobody wanted to make Professor Slughorn give them detention _or_ a disappointed look, so, while Professor Slughorn was having a word with Professor Coulson in the doorway, the Hufflepuffs collected their cauldrons and talked among themselves in hushed voices. 

"Do you suppose they really _aren't_ Death Eaters?" Annie wondered. "Or was Professor Coulson just trying to keep us from worrying too much?" She glanced at Loki. "I think I know what you were thinking."

"That they might be… them? Yeah," Loki muttered. 

"But they might just as easily be old mates of my dad," Mitchell said suddenly. Annie, George, and Loki looked at him in surprise, and Mitchell flushed. "Since Loki was honest with us, I might as well-- a lot of the people my dad ran with, when he was really young, have ended up in Azkaban. Nothing violent or anything," he added hastily. "But they did things like… petty theft and swindling, receiving stolen property and selling false magical artifacts and that." 

"But your dad was a _hero,"_ Loki protested in a whisper. _"Is,_ I mean." 

"Yeah, he is. But he was also-- he was sort of a tearaway after he left school, and I think he thought it would be boring, to just go to an ordinary job every day." Mitchell shrugged. "After he met Mum he started to straighten up, because she didn't like him breaking the law. She always says there are enough people who say stupid things about the Irish, without someone like Dad actually _doing_ stupid things. 

"And then Voldemort came back and, and Mum and Dad couldn't be having with that, not with the things he was trying to do." Mitchell smiled. "He was a petty crook and a twister-- not, you know, a deranged power-mad murderer. So when your mum got hold of him, to try to help some Muggle-borns get out of the country-- "

 _"My_ mum?" Loki repeated, which was silly of him, since he knew they had worked together. He had just never thought to ask how that had happened.

"Yeah," Mitchell said. "Dad was messing about with some kind of illegal charms one time, and nearly blew himself up, and your mother treated him. She really should have turned him in, but that was before the war, when the Dementors were still in charge of Azkaban, and Dad thinks she thought he didn't deserve _that._ So she just warned him off, and then when things got bad for the Muggle-borns she decided he was a good person to go to for help rescuing them. There's really only so much a law-abiding witch could do without help from someone who knew how to get around the law. And anyway, by then Mum and Dad could see the way things were going, in the Ministry, and they knew something had to be done, so they were willing enough to work with her." Mitchell smirked. "Mum says that turned out to be enough danger and excitement to last both of them a lifetime, so after the war Dad got a straight job after all, with George's dad, and went all respectable."

Mitchell's friends were quiet, picturing Mitchell's dad and his mischievous smile. "Respectable" was probably a lot less boring the way Mr. Mitchell did it than when most people did. 

"Anyway," Mitchell said firmly, raising his voice a little, "the escapees probably took at least one wand off the healers, to get away like they did. If they were Death Eaters, they would have just used it to kill the healers. So that probably means they _weren't._ They're probably just regular thieves and swindlers, and all they want to do is hide out somewhere until the heat dies down, and then go back to making a dishonest living. There's nothing for us to worry about."

Before any of the other Hufflepuffs could reply, the Ravenclaws came hurrying in to take their places, and Professor Slughorn asked them to take out parchment and a quill for a short quiz to remind them of certain principles of potion-making they might have forgotten over the holiday. 

The quiz was probably intended to make the students focus on something other than the escapees. Loki had no idea whether it worked for anyone else, because he was personally much too occupied with thinking about what Mitchell had told them. 

Mitchell had said his whole family-- which presumably included his father-- had always been in Hufflepuff, the _nicest_ house. And Mr. Mitchell was undeniably nice-- Loki remembered the night they arrived home for Christmas, when Mitchell's dad hadn't let Loki wait on his own for his mother, even though there were prefects around to keep an eye on him. 

He wasn't just _nice._ He was a _hero,_ who had risked his own life to rescue Muggle-borns from Voldemort's forces. And he'd done it again and again, until he was found out and had no choice except to escape with his family. 

Mr. Mitchell was _good,_ there was no other way to describe him. And the Hat had put him in Hufflepuff. 

And yet he had broken the law, and thought it was boring to be respectable. He had been a tearaway who had done all sorts of stupid, illegal things. He had done things that were _bad_ by almost any standard you wanted to use.

And yet, when Voldemort was committing really terrible crimes, Mr. Mitchell was one of the people who stood up against him. 

And Loki's mother hadn't reported him to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which was her duty as a healer who had good reason to believe the injuries she was treating were the result of illegal activities. She had decided he deserved a chance, and had given him one. And then, when she needed to really trust someone to help her do what she could against Voldemort, she had thought of him. 

Mum told Dad things. She might not have told him when she let Mr. Mitchell go in the first place, but Loki was sure that when she was working with Mr. Mitchell, to sneak all those Muggle-borns out of the country, she would have told Dad what she was up to, and with who. She had probably even admitted, then, that he was a crook, a twister, but she had liked him and thought he deserved another chance.

Loki stared at his parchment, at the quill writing nonsense he would later receive back with _Oh dear_ written at the top in scarlet ink. He didn't see any of it. 

All he could see was his mother holding out her arms to him. Dad making a second copy of the picture of Loki with his friends and his owl, for himself to keep.

Loki had assumed his parents had taken in the Death Eater baby because someone needed to keep an eye on him, so they could stop him if he started to go Dark. 

Now he thought… Maybe they really had just decided that he deserved a chance, too.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** This might be a good time to remind everybody-- this is a fic with a happy ending, and I generally define a happy ending as one in which  everyone, including the antagonist, ends up in a better place than at the beginning. However, my personal headcanon (seen in the main Housemates AU) is that Thor and Loki's relationship took a serious wrong turn somewhere early on, which contributed to Loki ending up the angry outcast who finally lashed out. In the main series, we had an early crisis that cast a very long shadow over the brothers' relationship.
> 
> In case anyone is worrying (and I think I've seen one comment that suggested someone is)-- the business with Sif's hair isn't in the cards for this story. However-- the Housemates pattern had Thor doing something pretty awful to Loki, early in the boys' lives, and Loki, much later, doing something even worse to Thor. The whole point of this story is blatantly to prevent Loki getting to the point where he does his awful things-- but that doesn't mean Thor's off the hook. Sorry about that.
> 
> **Warnings:** This is also the point at which the fic actually starts to get a little bit plotty. Stand back, everybody.

As Professor McGonagall promised, the restrictions placed on the students really didn't affect them very much: extracurricular activities went on as usual, house members were still allowed to watch their Quidditch team's practice, and three weeks into term most of the constraints inside the castle had been lifted. 

Wandering the grounds alone was still forbidden, as was going out when it was nearing dark, even for older students. However, Hagrid and the prefects made sure the younger kids got outside every day, unless it was ridiculously cold. Loki and his friends were able to play with Bronwyn about as often as ever, and she seemed delighted with her knitted rat. 

Loki saw almost nothing of Thor in those first weeks, and for a while that was restful. But as time went on and nothing changed, he felt progressively more anxious. Mum and Dad had wanted the two of them to fix things. Their parents had tried over the holiday, and nothing had happened, and now Thor and Loki were back at Hogwarts and things seemed to be as bad as ever. 

"It's not _your_ fault," Annie insisted, when Loki finally spoke up about his worries. He had already confessed to his friends about eavesdropping on Thor and his father's conversation, and told them all he could remember about what they had said. "It sounds like your dad pretty much told Thor it was his job to make the first move, didn't he?"

"But what if he… Maybe he thinks I don't want him to. Maybe he's waiting for me to-- "

"Maybe there's really a hobbit living in Hufflepuff basement," Annie interrupted. Loki blinked at her, and Annie spelled it out: "Maybe he really thinks all those things, and maybe he doesn’t. You don't know, and you won't unless he tells you. So trying to figure out what he wants you to do is… It doesn't make any sense at all. Do _you_ want to talk to him?"

Loki chewed on his lip, thinking, _Yes and no._ It was easier for Loki when Thor let him alone, but brothers weren't supposed to just, just pretend the other one didn't exist. Now that they were back at school and Thor wasn't around at all, not even silent across the dinner table, Loki missed him again-- even though he couldn't really put his finger on _what_ he missed about him. But he didn’t want to disappoint Mum and Dad, or be a bad person who wouldn't even try to make it up with his brother. 

He wanted to at least _try._

"I… think so," he said finally. 

"Then ask Professor Sprout to arrange it," Annie said firmly. 

"But what if _he_ doesn't want to?" Loki protested. 

"Then he'll say no," Annie pointed out. 

That seemed reasonable to Loki: if Thor didn't want to see him, he wouldn't. And so, when Professor Sprout took Loki aside at the end of Herbology a few days later and said Thor had agreed to meet, Loki felt a bubble of real hope. He had been wrong about his family before. He hadn't thought his parents wanted to know what he thought or felt, or to listen to him, or to talk and explain things. He had been wrong about that. He might be wrong about Thor, too. Maybe his brother wanted to fix things. Maybe he wanted to be friends after all, and was glad Loki had made the first move. Maybe--

The moment Thor walked into Greenhouse One, where they were meeting, Loki knew his hopes weren't going to come true. 

"Come sit down, Mr. Odinson," Professor Sprout said kindly, gesturing toward a chair at the worktable, across from where Loki was sitting. She and Professor Coulson sat down a little farther down the table. Thor, his face set, dropped into the chair and looked sullenly at Loki, who swallowed hard.

"What do you want?" Thor finally asked.

Loki suddenly couldn't remember a single one of the things he had wanted to say to his brother. And besides, it wasn't as if he had wanted to give a _speech_ or anything. What he wanted _("you waaaaanted")_ was for the two of them to talk together, and for Thor to say he missed Loki and to be glad when Loki said he missed him, too. 

Looking at Thor's glowering face, Loki knew he had been fooling himself: Thor didn't miss him at all. Or maybe Loki had just waited too long to make the first move, and now Thor was hurt and angry. But even if he was, Loki didn't think it was because Thor had been wanting Loki's company. 

This was all a terrible mistake. He should have just dodged Thor as well as he could all term, and worried about next summer when it happened.

But he had _asked_ to speak to Thor, so he couldn't very well sit here saying nothing at all. 

"I… I just…" Loki stammered. He was aware of Professor Sprout a few feet away, and knew she would help him if he asked her to. But she didn't know what he wanted _("waaaaanted")_ and if he couldn't explain it, she couldn't help him. 

Finally, he blurted, "I just want us not to be angry at each other." Which wasn't exactly what he wanted to say, but close enough.

Thor slouched in his chair, looking somewhere past Loki. "Well, _I'm_ not angry at _you."_ Loki knew better than to blurt out _You're lying,_ but Thor looked so angry Loki thought he probably could hardly breathe.

"Thor," Professor Coulson said quietly. That sounded strange: teachers generally called students by their surnames. Of course, with two Odinsons in the room, he probably wanted to make sure there was no mistaking which one he was speaking to. 

Or maybe there were situations that called for "Thor" instead of "Odinson." 

Thor looked at the head of Gryffindor, his expression partly stubborn and partly guilty. Professor Coulson said evenly, 

"It probably took some courage for your brother to ask for this meeting. Do you have anything you want to say to him?"

Thor met Professor Coulson's eyes. "No, sir." There was a long pause, while Loki tried frantically to think of something he could say to fix this. Then Thor stood up. "May I please go back to the common room now, sir?"

"Thor, I'm _sorry,"_ Loki blurted, desperate. 

"What are you sorry for?" Professor Sprout asked gently. 

Loki, near tears, shook his head. "I don't _know._ I'm just.."

Thor looked at Professor Coulson, who made a little frustrated gesture-- probably angry at Loki, for wasting their time like this-- and then nodded toward the door. The two of them walked out of the greenhouse. As Professor Coulson passed Loki, he reached down and touched him on the shoulder, but he didn't say anything. 

When he and Professor Sprout were alone, Loki repeated, "I'm sorry." Professor Sprout moved to the chair next to his and brought out her big white handkerchief. Loki added, "I mean, I'm sorry for, for wasting your time, yours and Professor Coulson's. I should have-- I couldn't think of…"

Professor Sprout patted his shoulder. "It's all right. You didn't waste our time: this is one of the things heads of house are supposed to do." She made no move to rise from her chair, so Loki stayed where he was, too. "I'm only sorry it was such an unpleasant encounter."

"I, I forgot everything I wanted to say," Loki admitted, shamed. "I couldn't even… I couldn't make him _understand-- "_

Professor Sprout smiled faintly. "Well, the reception you received was hardly one that encouraged confidences. And, sadly, it isn't possible to _make_ another person understand anything, as much as you might wish to." Loki sniffled into the handkerchief. Professor Sprout went on, "I admit, I have no idea what your brother wanted to get out of this meeting, given what we saw of his attitude. You might be thinking he behaved this way to punish you for something." Without looking up, Loki nodded. "Well, perhaps that was his intent. Or perhaps he feels hurt and angry for his own reasons, or confused, or something else I can't guess at. 

"But there is one very hopeful thing about this meeting, and that is the fact it occurred at all. It took a lot of courage for you to ask for it, and the fact your brother agreed to it _probably_ means he still wants something positive to happen between you. After all, if he had just wished to punish you, he could have rejected your request to meet at all. Isn't that so?"

Loki sniffled again. "I… I guess." 

"So, although I admit I don't know this for certain, it's _possible_ that, despite how it now appears, this meeting will actually lead to something positive. You've taken the first step, and you've made an effort. Perhaps your brother will recognize that, and reciprocate-- make an effort of his own in return. Perhaps he'll ask for the next meeting. If he does, I hope you will do your best to agree to it."

"What if he _doesn't?"_ Loki whispered. 

Professor Sprout looked sad. "Perhaps he won't. And if that happens, you will have to decide whether you want to try again, yourself." Loki cringed at the thought. "It may also be necessary to ask your parents to come to school, so that your family and we teachers can all talk together about what to do." Loki gave her a look of pure horror, and Professor Sprout said calmly, "We generally do try to solve things within the school, but it certainly wouldn't be the first time a conference with parents was needed to work out a problem. But, for now, let's give your brother some time to decide how he feels about this meeting. All right?"

"All right," Loki muttered. 

Professor Sprout patted him again. "All right. Shall we return to the castle?"

Without looking up, Loki nodded. Then he followed Professor Sprout from the greenhouse. 

~oOo~

A few days after the disastrous meeting with Thor, Mitchell got a letter from his parents. He read it at the breakfast table as usual, but the only bit of news he shared with his friends was that his parents said hello to them. 

At the mid-morning break, though, Mitchell drew his friends aside, to sit on a staircase out of the general flow of foot traffic, and brought out the letter.

"Mum and Dad don't want me to talk about this too much," Mitchell explained as he handed the parchment to George. "They say there's a rumour one of Dad's old pals really is one of the escapees. So far he hasn't been in touch with his family, but some of Dad's old friends have, you know, _heard things."_

"Yeah," Loki agreed, blushing as he thought about his own bad habit. "I know all about _hearing things."_ His friends giggled, and Mitchell went on, 

"Dad says the Ministry isn't giving out the names of the escapees because they're hoping not to put their families and friends on the alert. They think that might give the Department of Magical Law Enforcement a better chance of catching them sneaking home."

"I can't imagine that'll work," George objected. "I mean, unless they'd never been arrested before or something. You'd think if they were genuine crooks they'd know something about making contact on the sly."

"Maybe they figure there's no harm in trying," Annie said.

Loki suddenly thought of something.

"Has your dad heard any rumours about the other two?" he asked. Mitchell shook his head. "So does that mean they're _not_ his old friends?" The four knew what that could mean, and Mitchell winced a little as he shrugged. 

"He didn't say," Mitchell said. 

"But-- " George prompted. 

"Probably," Mitchell muttered. 

"So that means they most likely _are_ Death Eaters," Loki said quietly. 

"Not necessarily," Annie protested. "Surely Mitchell's dad doesn't know _every_ s petty crook in the wizarding world." 

"Well-- " Mitchell said sheepishly, and then grabbed George's arm to look at his wristwatch. "Is that the time? We're going to be late for class!"

Fortunately, the staircase they were sitting on led down to the dungeons, not far from the Potions classroom. They came tearing up just in time to join the crocodile of students filing into the classroom. Professor Slughorn stood just outside the door, speaking to Mr. Filch, as the students entered. 

"No, Argus, I am quite sure I haven't used boomslang skin in any potion since last spring, nor can I recall offhand the last time I touched the jar-- probably during inventory over the summer. Nor have I given any student permission to do so. If I had, I would have noted the amount used in the dispensing journal as usual."

"Well, Professor," said Filch, with grim relish, "I thought that jar was out of place when I was cleaning the store room last week, so I made a point of turning the label inward, and today it was facing outward again. If you didn't move it, I don't know who did. Then I looked at the book to see how much should be there, and some is missing. There's been pilfering, there has." 

The professor made some reply, but Loki and his friends didn't hear it in the clatter of cauldrons as the students set up their workstations. 

~oOo~ 

Quite a lot of the students had delivery of the _Daily Prophet_ every day, including Becky and Rogers. There had of course been a flurry of stories right after the breakout, naming possible escapees-- always the worst of Voldemort's old followers-- and scaring the students silly. However, the names kept changing while the stories remained the same, and after a while even the first-years realized they were almost entirely made-up, just guesses and speculation by the newspaper writers.

After the first few weeks, when no crime spree broke out and there was nothing concrete to report, the stories dwindled away. 

Until the Friday morning the _Prophet_ 's front page carried a banner headline: _Escape from Azkaban: A Healer's Own Account._

"The Ministry isn't going to be pleased about that," Mitchell remarked, leaning forward to try to read over Becky's shoulder. 

"Can we see that when you're finished with it?" Annie asked her sister. Becky promised she would give them the paper in the common room that evening. She kept her word, and Loki and his friends retreated to their corner, on the floor, to read the story. Half the house was already doing the same thing with other copies of the _Prophet_ , so there were a lot of groups poring over the paper and buzzing together. Anyone who wanted to do homework had by now given up and gone to the library to get away from the noise. 

"How a routine healers' visit to the notorious prison turned to heart-stopping terror-- a first-hand account by healer Crescentia Pinkstone!" George looked at Loki. "Do you know her?"

Loki shook his head. "There are a lot of healers at St. Mungo's. I think she was at the party my parents gave over the holidays, but I just said hello to her."

The four spread the newspaper on the carpet and crowded round. Madam Pinkstone described the healers' arrival at Azkaban, a towering fortress on a bare island in the North Sea, in a way that made Loki feel cold all over. He hoped he didn't have another nightmare after reading this. 

_"The seven prisoners had been complaining of various ailments, nothing urgent. We had no way of knowing it was all a ruse,"_ went the story. 

"You know, it's odd she doesn't mention any names either," Mitchell said. 

"Maybe the Ministry okayed the story as long as the paper didn't print them," Loki suggested. "Or they told her not to say them."

According to Madam Pinkstone, one of the prisoners suddenly became violently ill, distracting both healers and guards. Three of the remaining prisoners had then attacked the guards, while one of the others grabbed a healer's wand and then him, using him as a human shield as the other three escaped the infirmary. 

_"I thought for certain he would be killed," Madame Pinkstone relates. "But he was left outside, Confunded but otherwise unharmed, and the prisoners still inside the infirmary surrendered shortly after the escape. It almost seemed the point was for those three to get out, no matter that helping them would result in longer sentences for the prisoners who helped them."_

"Wow," George said. "That's really strange. Why would anyone help someone else escape and then stay to face the music themselves?"

Loki hugged his knees. "I can think of a few reasons. Maybe the ones who escaped had some really strong reason for wanting out-- like something to do with their families-- and the others were good friends of theirs and wanted to help."

"But they can't have gone near their families," Annie pointed out. "Not if Mitchell's dad is right about the Ministry keeping watch for them."

"That's true," Loki agreed. "So the other reason might be, the prisoners who stayed behind helped with the escape because they felt like they had to. Either they were really loyal to the ones who got away, or else really scared of them." Loki let go of his knees and leaned forward. "If they were loyal, that says maybe they were in the same gang together. And the main gang that's locked up in Azkaban together is-- "

"The Death Eaters," Mitchell finished the sentence for him. 

Loki nodded. "Only I can't imagine the prison would let a bunch of Death Eaters into the infirmary at the same time, even if they really were all sick."

"I can't imagine the guards not smelling a rat," Mitchell agreed. "No matter how sick they seemed. They'd probably bring them one or two at a time."

"So the prisoners must have seemed to have nothing much to do with each other," George said. "And that means, if they got together to cover the three who escaped-- "

"They probably were scared into doing it," Loki agreed. "If they weren't all in the same gang together in the first place, that's the only explanation that makes sense." He winced. "And that still probably means-- "

"Death Eaters," Annie said. "There might be other prisoners who'd scare the rest of them that much, but the first thing you'd think of is Death Eaters." 

"So why would they take your dad's friend?" George asked Mitchell, who shook his head, looking confused. 

"No idea," he admitted. 

"Wait," Loki said suddenly. "One of the prisoners was from Scotland. Your dad didn't tell you which friend he was talking about, but could he have been the one? I mean, your dad has Scottish friends, right?" 

"Sure, I guess," Mitchell replied. "He didn’t say this was one of them, though. And there were Scottish Death Eaters, too."

"I know," Loki said, "but… think about it. The Ministry knows who they're looking for, yes? So they're keeping an eye on the places and people those prisoners would normally go to. And none of them has turned up in any of those places, in Scotland or England."

"That might not mean anything," George argued. "Maybe they never came back to Britain in the first place. Maybe they went the other way. They could be hiding out in Romania by now."

"That's what I'd do," Annie agreed.

"So would I," Loki agreed. "But we still have Mr. Mitchell's friend. Why take him? Even if he tried to get in good with the Death Eaters for some reason of his own, once they were in prison together, why would they let him escape with them instead of leaving him behind with the others?"

"Okay, I give up," Annie finally said, after they all thought about it. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that maybe they took him along because they needed him for something," Loki explained. "And, okay, there could be a lot of things he might be good at, that would help them. But… suppose what they really need is someone who _knows Scotland?_ Like, knows his way around, or places to hide, or something like that? Maybe that's what they need."

"You mean, they might be planning something, somewhere in Scotland?" Mitchell asked. 

Loki nodded. Annie and George looked horrified. 

"So they could be hiding under the stands on the Quidditch pitch," George said. 

"No, no," Mitchell said quickly. "Hogwarts, and Hogsmeade village, are practically the _only_ places that _everyone_ in wizarding Britain knows their way around. Practically everyone goes to Hogwarts, right? They'd only need a guide if they were going to _some other part_ of Scotland."

Loki, who had been getting worried about exactly the same thing as Annie and George, exhaled. "Right. I didn't think of that."

"I'm sure the Ministry has," Mitchell said. "But just in case, do you think you had better write to your dad and ask him?"

"It might be better if you write to yours," Loki said, after thinking about it for a minute. "He's the one who knows who his friend is, and anyway he might have talked to Magical Law Enforcement already. But if he hasn't, he can speak to my dad." 

"Good idea," Mitchell agreed. "I'll write him a letter tonight, after Astronomy."

"You can send it with Bronwyn, tomorrow," Loki offered. 

"Thanks," said Mitchell, folding the newspaper. "Anyone for a game of Owl Snap before class?"

~oOo~

Bronwyn came back early the next week with a note from Mitchell's father, saying he would talk to the proper authorities and telling Mitchell not to worry. 

"As long as those guys are in some other part of Scotland, I have nothing at all to worry about," Mitchell assured his friends, offering Bronwyn half a sausage as a thank-you.

It seemed the Ministry thought the same thing, or maybe something else had happened, because the last restrictions on the school were lifted within the week. Loki and his friends were able to go outside and play with Bronwyn again, without needing an escort or anything. After Bronwyn dropped her knitted rat and flew away, the four friends decided to walk around the school grounds just because they could. 

As luck would have it, they came upon the empty Quidditch pitch just as Thor and his friends were leaving it, carrying their broomsticks. Clint was with them, and he was also carrying a broom, one of the old school ones. 

Loki froze for a moment, unsure what to do. He was still supposed to have a teacher around when he was in contact with his brother, but he didn't want to just run away from him again. He was pretty sure Thor wasn't going to _chase_ him or anything, and he didn't want to hurt Thor's feelings or make him angry--

"Hi, Loki," Volstagg called, waving. "Out for a walk?" It was a pretty silly question, but Volstagg's tone was almost friendly, so Loki nodded warily. Volstagg went on, "We were just having some extra flying practice with Clint, here. He's getting quite good."

"Oh," Loki said uneasily. "That's… that's nice. I hope you had fun?" He glanced from Volstagg to Thor, and then Clint. Both of them looked away without speaking. Hogun, Fandral, and Sif seemed to be very interested in something going on back at the Quidditch pitch. The silence stretched out awkwardly.

"We should get back to the common room," Volstagg said finally, edging backwards and guiding the others with him. It should have been funny, for someone so big to look so hesitant, but Loki was too busy being uncomfortable himself to think about that. "Have a good evening," Volstagg said. Loki mumbled something even he couldn't understand.

"We should go, too," Annie said quickly, giving Loki a push. "Come on."

They went back into the castle by different doors, and Loki's friends didn't pick at him to talk about what had just happened. He would have, if he'd had anything to say about it, but it was the same old thing it had been all year, and he seemed to be all out of words.

Not quite the same old thing, actually: at breakfast the next day, Loki had the impression he was getting strange looks from the Gryffindor table, even from first-years who were friendly to him. He couldn't figure it out, and he was a little afraid to ask the other Hufflepuffs if they noticed anything strange. 

By Friday, Loki was pretty sure it wasn't his imagination: the Gryffindors were either avoiding him or peering at him out of the corners of their eyes, and he was beginning to feel like his skin didn't fit whenever he was near them. 

But it wasn't until their flying lesson with Ravenclaw ended that he got an explanation. Jane sidled up to him as they were leaving the field and said, "Can I talk to you a minute?" Loki nodded, and she said, in a rush, "Loki I'm sorry I don't want to hurt your feelings but you should know that your… that Thor is-- "

"Is what?" Annie prompted. 

Jane turned scarlet, glanced at Bruce who had caught up to them, and blurted out:

"Darcy told me Natasha said that Clint told _her_ that Thor told him… Thor's telling people you're not really his brother. He says you're adopted, so you're not his real brother at all."

Loki just stared at her, his mouth falling open. Once again, he couldn't think of a single thing to say.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** I'm really sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. I generally don't apologize for late chapters, because I'm pretty sure you all are busy and aren't exactly waiting by the phone, as it were, but I've been posting at least one chapter a week on this thing and now it's been nearly two. So I apologize for suddenly changing the posting schedule, and this chapter is a bit short to make sure it gets posted quickly. Thanks to everyone still out there for your patience! 
> 
> As it happens, I was on a trip to London (England) with a lifelong friend, and I ended up not taking a laptop with me. And, to be honest, I was pretty distracted! (There may at some point be a one-shot involving Loki and Thor walking around London with their guidebooks, agreeing that Buckingham Palace is delightfully cosy and awestruck that twelfth-century mortals built Westminster Abbey without resorting to magic. I'm just saying.)
> 
> With reference to this story-- in case anyone is perplexed about Thor being the one who whipped out "not my brother" instead of Loki-- this story is a Housemates AU. Also Thor is, by definition, pre-redemption-arc. I'm pretty sure Housemates!Thor, if he'd found out Loki was adopted when they were kids, would have used it as a weapon. Like, the first time he met kids who disliked his little brother, he'd have immediately gone, "He's adopted!" to distance himself and avoid embarrassment. Unlike post-redemption canon!Th--
> 
> Oh. 
> 
> Ahem. Anyway, as for Loki, Sprout's right: there's almost no chance of him going Dark in this universe, because even without his family his new friends and mentors would be protective factors. But-- Housemates!Loki, as a disturbed adult, only gave up on his family after "no, Loki" made him think he'd been disowned first. And even at that he kept thinking of Thor as "brother"-- he still hadn't given up hope altogether, even when he thought he had. 
> 
> Hogwarts!Loki, as a younger version of Housemates!Loki, still wants to be loved and accepted by his family-- his whole family. The last thing he's likely to do is proclaim himself not a member of that family, even indirectly by denying Thor. At this stage in the story, Loki's the one who's interested in reconciliation. We'll eventually find out what Thor thinks.
> 
> Stopping before the author note ends up longer than the chapter itself. 
> 
> **Warnings:** There's some whump in this one, although not precisely physical whump. And if it feels a little rushed, that's because it is, a little. I promise a better effort in the next one!

"Come on, Loki, you can't possibly think they _told him,"_ Mitchell protested. "Why would they do that?"

"Maybe they thought it would make him be nicer to the _poor little orphan,"_ Loki spat, wrapping his arms defensively around himself. The four friends hadn't gone to lunch in the Great Hall. Instead, they were sitting at a table in a deserted corner of the library, books open before them as props, whispering together. 

Annie moved a little closer to him in her chair. Loki flinched, but didn't move away. "Loki," she said, "I know I only met your parents one time, but… you told us they were trying to, to make things better between you. Why would they do a thing like that to you?"

"Anyway, you found out by accident," George spoke up. "Maybe he did, too. Maybe he overheard them talking. I mean, if they were trying to fix things with you, they probably talked about you a lot, when they thought they were alone."

Loki felt his mouth drop open a little in surprise. It had never occurred to him that anyone would talk, or think, about him when he wasn't there in front of them. And yet, of course, if his parents hadn't done exactly that, he wouldn't have overheard any of those important conversations in the first place. 

"Maybe…" he said slowly. And then he remembered something. "The door-- it might have been open a little, when I was talking to you that time. I think I looked at it and noticed that, but I thought we were talking too quietly for anyone to hear us, anyway." 

"Okay, so maybe that's how he found out," Mitchell said. 

"If he did, maybe he was upset that you talked to us and not to him," Annie suggested suddenly. "I mean, he's your brother. We're just… you've only known us for a little while."

Loki scowled, and Mitchell said quickly, "I know it's not fair of him, but it's natural, don't you think?"

Loki, speaking very slowly and clearly as if Mitchell didn't speak English, said, "It might be, if he liked me and wanted us to be… to be important to each other. But he doesn't. So why should he care?"

Mitchell wriggled uncomfortably. "I don't know."

There was an awkward silence, the others waiting for Loki to speak again. Finally, he muttered, 

"At least he didn't hear the part about my… my real parents."

George leaned forward, his expression suddenly urgent. "Don't call them that, okay?" Loki turned to look at him, and George flushed but held firm. "Every time you say 'my _real_ parents,' you have a look on your face like you're reminding yourself why nobody can ever like you or be friends with you. Why you deserve for Thor to be mean to you. Stop it."

Loki looked down at his books, blinking hard. "Well, what am I supposed to call them?" 

"Birth parents," Annie said. "Or biological parents. Or-- do you actually know their names?"

"Campbell-Hardwicke," Loki whispered. "Felix and Catriona Campbell-Hardwicke. Professor Fury told me about them, that day he caught us in the library."

Annie winced a little at the memory, but all she said was, "Okay, then we'll call them Felix and Catriona. If we need to talk about them at all, I mean. Which we probably won't, because George is right, they're not your _real_ parents."

"I wonder if they ever miss you, though," Mitchell said suddenly. The others stared at him, and he said uncomfortably, "Well, I mean-- even Death Eaters were probably fond of their kids."

Loki shook his head. "Not these ones. Professor Fury told me… They're horrible people. They _like_ being cruel. They… They probably just thought it was their job to have a lot of kids and raise them to believe everything Voldemort said. If their side had won-- " Loki broke off suddenly. 

"What?" Annie asked. 

"I just… I was going to say I'd probably have a lot of little brothers and sisters and we'd all be hateful, cruel people. And then I sort of wondered, what if I wasn't their only-- ?"

George shuddered. "Don't even think about that. Don't."

"We were talking about Thor," Mitchell added. "About how lucky it was that he didn't hear you mention… Felix and Catriona." He hurried over the names as if even saying them was bad luck. "And what you were going to do about, about what Thor's saying."

"What _can_ I do?" Loki demanded. "He already hates me, if I tell on him it'll only make things worse."

"Honestly, Loki, how much worse do you think things are likely to get?" Mitchell demanded. 

"And the prefects are bound to get wind of it soon, if they haven't already," George added. "You might as well tell Professor Sprout yourself. Or your parents."

"But they don't know I know!" Loki hissed. "I can't… if I tell them I know, they'll know I was spying, and if I pretend I don't know, they'll be even angrier at Thor." 

Mitchell shrugged. "That's his problem," he said grimly. 

Loki clasped his hands tightly and tried to think. He had no doubt his father would be furious, if he knew what Thor had said. There was no satisfaction in the idea: when Dad was angry he was terrifying, and Loki didn't like to even imagine it. He didn't want to turn that loose on Thor, or have to be there when it happened. And, too, Thor would be horribly angry with him afterward. Loki didn't know what Thor might do to get even with him, but it wouldn't be pretty. He knew that full well. 

On the other hand, though… the idea of telling his mother, being comforted by her and told this wasn't his fault, not this time… that was hard to resist. Loki remembered leaning against his mother, feeling her arms around him, and he imagined her warm quiet voice telling him that he didn't deserve this. He felt hollow inside with longing for that to be happening. 

If he told on Thor, everything would get ugly and complicated and he might never be friends with his brother again (if he ever had been to begin with.) But he was beginning to realize that he had changed since Christmas. Once, he had thought his parents didn't care very much about him, thought all they wanted was for him to be quiet and cause no trouble and let them get on with thinking about things they really cared about. Now, he was beginning to realize that one of the things they really cared about was _Loki._ He was beginning to realize they did love him, and he didn't have to go around feeling all hollowed out and painfully empty all the time, _wishing._

And for some reason, knowing that made it even harder for Loki to put up with being treated badly by Thor. It didn't make sense, Loki knew-- it seemed that knowing _someone_ loved him should have made it easier to accept that some people _didn't,_ but Loki suddenly found himself rebelling against the idea of _ever_ being made to feel that way ever again. He remembered, with a sudden sickening jolt, the way he had felt that night before he came to Hogwarts, when he had run weeping up the stairs and hidden away in his room, sure as sure that he would be as alone at school as he always was at home. 

He looked around the table at his friends. At these kids who had accepted him into their gang-- a gang that existed without needing to make anyone else into outsiders. Even if Thor never made up with him, Loki wasn't alone. He missed Thor and wished things could be better between them, but he realized didn't _need_ his brother the way he once thought he did. 

And he didn't _deserve_ to be punished for things he didn't understand, and maybe hadn't even done. Thor didn’t like him, and Thor didn't want him, but Thor couldn't just act like this and expect Loki to put up with it as if he was a criminal himself, instead of just the son of criminals. 

He couldn't just be quiet and helplessly wish for things to change. He couldn't. And he didn't have to: it wasn't right for Thor to be like this. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, and Loki didn't have to accept it. He _didn't._

"I'm going to talk to Professor Sprout," he decided, and was aware of the others relaxing a little, as if they'd been willing him to say those words. He glanced around and smiled a little. Then his stomach clenched as he thought about what he was about to put into motion. His hands clasped around each other, holding on tight.

Thor would never forgive him.

And then, for the first time, Loki wondered whether he would ever forgive Thor. 

~oOo~

Professor Sprout was teaching all afternoon, first the seventh-years preparing for their NEWTs, and then Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, who always had Herbology together right up to fifth year. Loki had looked at the master timetable and realized Professor Sprout's last class of the day was with _fourth year,_ which meant she was teaching _Thor_ in that session. 

And that meant Loki was going to have to be very careful how he approached the professor, to make sure he didn't miss her at the greenhouses, but didn't see his brother, or get seen by him. 

Maybe, he thought with longing, maybe she knew already. Maybe she was already talking to Thor about the meeting they had to have, was already planning to send someone to fetch Loki. Maybe he didn't have to do this himself after all. 

But he didn't know, and so he had to act. Had to. 

Annie, George, and Mitchell offered to come with him, but Loki refused. It wasn't that he didn't want them, it was just that this was something he had to do alone. He couldn't quite explain it to himself, but the feeling was powerful. He had to do this himself. It might be the thing that ended everything between himself and his brother, or-- hope refusing to give up entirely-- helped them mend things, and Loki had to do it by himself. 

"I'll meet you back in the common room later," he promised his friends as they separated. 

Annie fidgeted, then asked, "What do you want us to do, if anyone asks us whether you're really adopted?"

Loki chewed his lip, then made a decision. "Tell them the truth. I'll see you later." His friends nodded, and made for the common room. 

He knew he had to act alone, but as he trotted down an empty, echoing corridor in the castle, Loki wished he had made a different decision. At this time of year it still got dark very early, and the sun was nearly ready to set as he went looking for his teacher. Outside the castle, shadows would be growing long, and inside the newly-lit lamps created the same effect. Loki wasn't looking forward to scurrying across the lawn in the near-dark, but he had no choice. And besides, it would make hiding from Thor a whole lot easier. 

Loki tried not to think about shadows, and the things that might be hiding in them. 

He was passing the staircase where he and his friends had sat while Mitchell showed them the letter from his dad, when he heard a sound. Footsteps coming up the stairs, moving softly and quietly, on their way up from the dungeons. 

There was no reason for Loki to hide: he had every right to be here, he was doing nothing wrong in walking down this corridor. 

There was no reason for Loki to be afraid, either: whoever was coming up those stairs was surely just a student or teacher, someone who also had every right to be down there, near the Potions classroom and Professor Slughorn's store room. The dungeons weren't used to imprison people anymore, they were just rooms-- classrooms, and the Slytherin common room and dormitories, their entrances hidden like all the others. Nobody was imprisoned there anymore, so no one was escaping from them--

Loki had hesitated a heartbeat too long, and now it was too late to find a place to hide. He froze, like a mouse who thinks he sees the shadow of an owl. 

A moment later, Sif and Volstagg appeared at the top of the stairs, with another Gryffindor Loki vaguely recognized as another member of their house Quidditch team. 

Loki exhaled, reassured in spite of himself. He didn't like Thor's friends, and he would have preferred to be facing members of any other house at all in the lengthening shadows, but it was still a bit of a relief to see someone he knew coming up those stairs. A person could imagine all sorts of things, alone in this darkening corridor…

Still, he was puzzled, and his face must have showed it. He supposed there must be a reason for these three to be coming up from the dungeons, but he couldn't think of one. 

"What are you-- ?" he began. 

The third Gryffindor, without breaking stride, pointed her wand at him. _"Petrificus totalis!"_

Loki found himself frozen, rigid, unable to move his arms or legs or to speak. He wavered for a moment, then collapsed backward like a tree falling, slamming painfully onto the marble floor. The back of his head struck, and stars flashed before his eyes. He couldn't move his head, couldn't turn to see his tormentors. But he could hear them. 

"Let's get out of here," urged the Gryffindor Loki didn't know. 

"And leave the brat for someone to find?" Sif snapped. She was standing right next to him, prodded him with her toe as if he was garbage. 

"We have to get rid of him," said Volstagg, coldly, as if he had never greeted Loki in an almost-friendly way, told him about extra flying practice for Clint, wished him a good evening. Loki tried frantically to move, to say something, as he heard the older boy's big feet come closer. 

"We're not going to-- here, help me," said the third Gryffindor, and suddenly there were hands on Loki, picking him up. "That door, quick."

A moment later and Loki had been bundled inside an empty classroom, dumped on the floor like an unwanted broom. 

The door closed, and there was the sound of the three Gryffindors running away down the corridor. 

And Loki was left alone in the dark.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** I was expecting to get a little bit deeper into the plot with this chapter, but that didn't quite work out.
> 
> One thing I forgot to mention in the last note: while in London I spent a whole day in the Royal Air Force museum and then the Cabinet War Rooms, where Churchill and his Cabinet worked during the Second World War. It was a brilliant day, but one of the small highlights was a moment in the Churchill Museum (which is within the space occupied by the Cabinet War Rooms.) (I have, since childhood, had a thing for Mr. Churchill and his turns of phrase, despite his other failings.) Anyway, there I was, standing next to a display that included a wall painted to look like a bookshelf, in which was a niche like you'd have to hold a small statue. I assume it also contained some kind of trigger to keep the recorded commentary running, and therefore some small item had to be left there at all times. 
> 
> And what had the museum chosen?
> 
> A floppy rhinoceros! Hand to God, a small stuffed rhinoceros, a beanbag one I think, with a security tag to keep it from going astray! 
> 
> [**Observe!**](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/coneycat_fic/23589795/7618/7618_original.jpg)
> 
> And, of course, all I could think of for a moment were my Lokis and how pleased they both would be to see it!
> 
>  **Warnings:** Not really a warning, but I suddenly need surnames for Volstagg and Sif so I made some up, totally at random. Because this AU is set in modern Britain, I haven't used "dottir" in Sif's surname.

The classroom wasn't completely dark when Loki was dumped in it, but that was almost worse: he landed stiffly on his side, facing into the room, able to see desks and chairs in front of him and aware of more just outside his range of vision. Shadows were already crawling across the floor, reaching long crooked fingers toward Loki as he lay there, helpless. 

The spell that had been used on him was a body-bind jinx-- Loki recognized the incantation from Thor and his friends' jinx duels over the summer. What he hadn't realized was how powerful the jinx could be: based on what he had seen the older kids do, Loki thought the charm wore off by itself after a few minutes. 

Not this time: as much as Loki tried to struggle, he found he couldn't even blink his eyes, let alone move a hand or foot. Instead, he had to lie there, staring into the back of the classroom at the darkness creeping toward him. He wanted to get up and pound on the door-- he had heard the click that meant he was locked in-- scream for help, beg someone to let him out. He wanted to curl up into a tiny ball with his arms over his head, so he was too small to find, in a corner so the darkness and whatever lurked there couldn’t get behind him. 

He wanted to close his eyes so at least he couldn't see what might be prowling toward him, but even his eyelids were frozen. He could hardly breathe, panic crawling up his throat and sealing it nearly shut. At the edges of his vision, Loki was sure he could see flapping creatures, hear them muttering and whispering to each other, planning what they would do to him when the room was completely dark. 

It was ridiculous, it made no sense at all, at the top of his mind Loki knew that perfectly well-- knew he was alone in this room, that nothing was coming after him, nothing was going to hurt him, devour him--

But deep underneath was the fear of what _might_ be there, what _might_ be waiting for him, and without any way to defend himself or escape, all he could do was lie on the floor, tears streaming from his wide-open eyes, and wait for _it_ to happen. 

Loki had no idea how long he lay there-- after the room grew completely dark there was no way for him to judge the passage of time. Hours. Days. He tried not to remember that it was Friday, and the classroom wouldn't be used until Monday morning. He couldn't be left here until _Monday,_ he couldn't, he _couldn't--_

It was difficult to hear anything past the thunder of his own heartbeat and the agonized wheeze of air going in and out of his lungs. He _thought_ he could hear other sounds, furtive ones-- they might have been mice, or monsters, or nothing at all. But, finally, after he had lain on that cold stone floor for about a hundred years, Loki heard something he was sure was real. 

Something was scuffling at the door behind him, scratching and thumping. 

His heart gave a horrible lurch, and then nearly hammered its way out of his chest. Something was there. Something was coming for him. Something was behind him, about to come through the door and sink its talons into him, and he wouldn't be able to do a thing about it--

Through the panic buzzing in his head, he could hear the scratching intensify. And then there was a sharp little cry, almost a mew, of impatience and frustration. 

"I think she's got something," called a voice from the other side of the door-- _Rogers'_ voice. Loki stopped breathing altogether, straining to call out, to cry for help. Outside the door, Rogers said, _"Alohamora!"_

And the lock turned. 

A moment later the door pushed into Loki, stiff on the floor, and above him Rogers said _"Lumos"_ and the room lit up with a soft strong glow. 

A weight landed on Loki's arm, sharp claws digging through his robe and jumper, feathers brushing his face as wings folded. And then Bronwyn was tugging at his hair with her beak and making her mewing noises into his ear. 

"Odinson!" Rogers exclaimed. And then, "Loki, are you all right? " Loki could hear the prefect drop to his knees, and a hand touched his rigid shoulder. "What's the matter?" _Finally,_ the prefect seemed to realize what was wrong. _"Finite incantatum!"_

Loki exploded out of his forced stillness, little shrieking gasps tearing out of his lungs as he tried to catch his breath and vent his terror at the same time. Bronwyn went flapping to one side as Loki tried to scramble to his feet, nearly fell--

\-- and then Rogers' arms were around him and he was being picked up off the ground, clinging as if the prefect was a life preserver and Loki was drowning. 

"I've got him!" Rogers shouted through the open door, and then a big hand cradled the back of Loki's head, and the older boy was repeating, "Okay, you're okay, you're okay," in a sort of mindless croon. 

Loki buried his face in Rogers' shoulder and held on tight.

Rogers' call brought other searchers running: Stark, in jeans and his t-shirt with _Am I Evil_ written on it, and the Fat Friar, Hufflepuff's ghost, who could of course pass through doors and walls and had obviously been searching along another corridor. 

"Ohthankgoodness," Stark whistled, and also reached out to pat Loki on the back. "You okay, kid?" He jerked his hand away when Loki uttered a little squeak of distress. 

"Someone hexed him," Rogers said grimly. "I'm going to take him to the hospital wing. And his owl, too. You go find Professor McGonagall and tell her we've found him." 

"Right," Stark replied, patted Loki one more time, and ran off down the corridor. 

~oOo~

Madame Pomfrey, the school healer, decided a shock like the one Loki had called for a night of observation in the infirmary. Loki protested, insisting he was fine, that he wanted to go back to the Hufflepuff dormitory. 

What he really meant was, he didn't want to spend a night alone in the empty, echoing hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey, and Professor Sprout when she arrived, were adamant. While Loki told Professor Sprout his story, Rogers went back to the dormitory to fetch pajamas and things and tell Loki's friends he was safe. He came back with Loki's rhinoceros bundled up in Loki's bathrobe, which the healer and his head of house very kindly pretended they didn't see. 

After he was finished talking to Professor Sprout, Madame Pomfrey left several of the lamps lit and the Fat Friar offered to sit up with Loki, once he was tucked up snugly. Ghost or not, the Friar was a reassuring figure, glowing in the lamplight in the chair beside Loki's bed. Bronwyn was also allowed to stay, and roosted on the metal bedpost above Loki, head drawn into her fluffy feathered neck, great yellow eyes closed.

"Your friends became worried when you didn't return to the common room, so they went to the Great Hall at dinner to ask Professor Sprout if she knew where you had gone after you spoke to her. She, of course, hadn't seen you at all," the Hufflepuff ghost explained. "The Hufflepuff prefects and I went looking for you, but when you didn't turn up at astronomy either, all the prefects and teachers joined us. Given the size of the castle, it was fortunate Miss Sawyer-- the prefect, you know, not your classmate-- eventually thought to fetch your owl. They really are remarkable creatures, they can find their owners almost anywhere. Without your owl we might have been searching for you all weekend." 

"Sorry," Loki muttered. 

The Fat Friar looked kind. "Don't be ridiculous, dear boy. I'm sure you didn't lock yourself in that classroom on purpose."

"I didn't do it at all," Loki protested, tears starting up in his eyes again. 

"Of course you didn't," the Fat Friar agreed quickly, his tone soothing. 

"I _didn't._ I don't know why they'd _do_ that to me," Loki mumbled, hugging his rhinoceros. "I know they don't _like_ me, but I wasn't _doing_ anything to them. And Volstagg-- he was almost _nice_ to me the last time I saw him. And he, he sounded like he wanted to-- " Loki shuddered. The Fat Friar made reassuring noises.

"Mr. Odinson, you need to get some sleep," Madame Pomfrey said, in her starchy way, as she walked over holding a glass of something. "Drink this." Loki balked. "You won't have dreams. I promise," Madame Pomfrey said, firmly but a little more kindly. 

Loki looked at her for a moment, and then took the glass. 

~oOo~

The next morning, when Loki opened his eyes, the Fat Friar was gone. In his place in the chair beside the bed was Professor Fury. 

Loki sat up abruptly, scared wide awake. Professor Fury sighed and pushed his chair back a little. 

"Calm down, Odinson. I'm still not going to eat you," the teacher said gruffly. 

"No, sir," Loki squeaked. 

"I just need to talk to you a little bit, about what you told Professor Sprout last night. Can you tell me?"

Loki rubbed his eyes and obeyed, repeating everything he could remember: he had spent the afternoon with his friends in the library, doing homework. Then, when last period was about to end, he had left them and gone looking for Professor Sprout. He had been passing the stairs leading down to the Potions class and storage room, and the dungeons, when the three Gryffindors came up them. 

"And attacked you," Professor Fury cut in, before Loki had to repeat the rest of the terrible story. Loki nodded. "You said you recognized them?"

"Yes," Loki replied. "Two of them, anyway. Sif Haraldsson and Volstagg Baldersson, they're friends of my brother. I didn't know the other girl."

"But you knew she was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" Professor Fury asked. 

"Yes," Loki replied. "I remember seeing her playing." He could feel his face get hot, as if he was about to be caught in a lie, which was ridiculous because he was telling the _truth._ He _was._

But why would anybody believe _him,_ instead of Thor's friends-- ?

"Okay, here's the problem," Professor Fury said calmly, and Loki felt his stomach lurch. _He does think I'm lying._ "I've spoken to both of them, and to the other girls from the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They all swear they had nothing to do with attacking you." _And, of course, the teachers believed them._ "Your brother's friends were actually quite upset at the idea we'd think they'd really hurt you." Whatever expression flickered across Loki's face made Professor Fury grimace. "Apart from that, Miss Haraldsson is in third year. Last period yesterday, the Gryffindor third years were in Defense Against the Dark Arts. _My_ class. And Miss Haraldsson was definitely there." 

Loki felt his mouth fall open a little. To his shame, tears began to prickle at the corners of his eyes. 

"I'm telling you the truth," he whispered hopelessly. 

"And Mr. Baldersson was participating in a study group for his OWL in Care of Magical Creatures," Professor Fury went on, as if Loki hadn't spoken. "Professor Hagrid can confirm that: he was supervising them as they worked with fire crabs in an enclosure near his house. I think you'll agree that Baldersson would be difficult to miss, even in a group."

"I… I… " Loki spluttered. "But I _saw_ them-- "

"Yes, I'm sure you did," Professor Fury replied. "And the third member of the group cast a hex on you that lasted until Mr. Rogers found and released you. Correct?" Loki nodded miserably. "There are three girls on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Miss Haraldsson is one of them. The other two are in third and sixth year respectively, and both of them were in class yesterday when you were attacked-- Defense Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes respectively. Quite apart from all that, the sixth-year is not a particularly strong Charms student, and the spell cast on you was well beyond the abilities of any third year I've ever met. To cast a curse powerful enough to sustain itself for several hours, even in the absence of the sorcerer who cast it, is quite a feat of magic."

Loki wanted to pull the covers over his head. "But it _happened,"_ he protested. 

Professor Fury blinked, and finally seemed to realize Loki wasn't hearing what he thought he was saying. "Of course it happened. I don't doubt that for a moment. But the culprits weren't the people you believed them to be. They can't have been."

"What… what do you mean?" Loki asked, in a small voice. 

"Just what I said," Professor Fury said shortly, but when it became obvious Loki really didn't know what he was talking about, the professor explained, "There have been thefts from the storage room where Professor Slughorn keeps his ingredients for potions, and we don't think the culprit is a student. There was another theft yesterday, despite the defensive charms Professor Slughorn placed on the door. You'd have to be a pretty powerful sorcerer to get past it. We don't believe the people who attacked you were students."

Loki took a moment to figure it out-- which was probably a sign the sleeping potion was still affecting him, because by now surely even Bronwyn and the floppy rhinoceros knew what Professor Fury was trying to say. 

And then he suddenly understood. 

"You mean… you mean you think they were the escaped prisoners? Disguised as students?" Loki whispered. _"Here?_ In _Hogwarts?"_

"I'm afraid so," Professor Fury said quietly. 

"But… but what could they possibly want at _Hogwarts?"_ Loki asked. 

"That's what we need to find out," the professor replied.

~oOo~

Professor Fury waited while Loki got dressed, and then walked him back to the Hufflepuff common room, where his friends were extremely glad to see him. Annie and the other first-year girls all hugged him, while George, Mitchell, and the other boys gathered close around him. Eventually, the first outburst of emotion passed and Loki was left to huddle with his friends in their usual corner.

"I'm so glad you're all right," Annie sniffled, wiping her eyes. Ordinarily Loki would have hated to see Annie cry, but he found he liked seeing her show such concern for _him._ "When you didn't come back from seeing Professor Sprout, we were so worried."

"Professor Fury said I was probably attacked by the escaped prisoners," Loki said quietly, and his friends nodded. 

"Yes," Annie said. "We're all under restrictions again."

"Stay in groups, get escorted around by prefects and teachers, that kind of thing," George explained. 

"Which doesn't tell us what to do in case the teacher escorting us turns out to be one of the escaped prisoners in disguise," Mitchell pointed out. His friends stared at him. "Hadn't thought of that, had you?" he asked, with glum relish. 

"How can they be disguising themselves, anyway?" Loki demanded. 

"Easily, it seems," Mitchell replied. "Becky explained it to us this morning: there've been potions ingredients stolen, yeah?" Loki nodded. "Well, it turns out some of them are the ingredients you need to make Polyjuice potion, which can be used to transform a person into someone else. It takes a few weeks to make, but the first thefts probably happened early in the term."

"Remember, Mr. Filch said he thought some boomslang skin-- that's one of the ingredients in Polyjuice potion-- had been stolen, so he put the jar back on the shelf with the label facing the wrong way," George contributed eagerly. Loki nodded, recalling the day they'd overheard the caretaker talking to Professor Slughorn. Loki hadn't thought to wonder what boomslang skin was used for. George said, "He wasn't sure, but when the jar was moved again he went to Professor Slughorn. So that means it probably wasn't the first theft." 

"And if that's true," Annie went on, "whoever is stealing has had plenty of time to make at least one batch of Polyjuice potion."

"And they disguised themselves as students so they could move around the castle without anyone noticing them?" Loki said. 

"I guess so," Mitchell said. "The size of the castle, it's not all that likely they'd happen to be spotted by someone who happened to know where the real students were at that moment. I'm sure they didn't mess about or waste any time."

Loki felt cold all over. "The person disguised as Volstagg-- he said they had to _get rid of_ me. If the third one hadn't interfered-- " The four friends looked at each other in horror. "But-- why Hogwarts? It's just a school. What are they doing here?"

"Maybe," George offered, "they need the Polyjuice potion for something else. It's probably easier and safer to steal ingredients here than it would be to try to buy or steal them a bit at a time from a dealer in London or someplace where there would be more people around to spot them. They'll probably move on as soon as they have all the stuff they need, or as soon as they realize they've been rumbled."

"They should have just altered your memory," Mitchell said thoughtfully, looking at Loki. 

"What?" Annie asked sharply. 

"Well, think about it: they've certainly called attention to their presence now, and if they'd… hurt him… it would have been even worse. They've probably been as careful as they could, not to get spotted doing anything suspicious before now. If they'd just done a memory charm on Loki when he saw them coming up that staircase, he'd have gone about his business without anyone being any the wiser. So why wouldn't they just do that?"

"The two pretending to be Sif and Volstagg seemed to want to hurt me, all right," Loki mumbled. 

"But it was the other one who cast the spell," Mitchell said. 

Loki nodded. "Before they could do anything worse themselves," he realized. "That one must be your dad's friend." He thought about it, was suddenly struck with an idea. "Do you suppose-- what if he cast the spell he did _on purpose?_ To leave a clue that something bad is going on here, so whoever is hunting for them would have some idea where to come looking for them?"

Mitchell's eyes got big. "Hoping Magical Law Enforcement would find them, you mean?"

"Yeah," Loki agreed. "I hadn’t thought about it, but… if he's just an ordinary thief, and if we're right that the people he's with are Death Eaters who are trying to get him to help them do something really bad… he must be awfully scared. Getting captured and sent back to Azkaban would probably be a good thing, from his point of view."

The friends thought about that. Loki remembered how frightened he had been, alone in that classroom full of make-believe monsters. He couldn't begin to imagine how bad it would be to find yourself trapped by _real_ monsters who wouldn't let you go-- or at least wouldn't until you had done what they wanted, however bad it might be. 

__In Loki's opinion only a really _stupid_ Death Eater would hang around Hogwarts once their presence had been given away like this. He hoped they still needed the third escapee for whatever it was they wanted to do, that they hadn't gotten so angry at him for giving them away that they'd gone ahead and killed him. _ _

__Loki didn't usually think imagine adults being scared of things, but now he thought about it, that seemed horribly likely. He kept picturing Mr. Mitchell himself, white-faced and terrified and maybe doing whatever he was told in the hopes of keeping the Death Eaters from… from hurting him, or going to find his family and…_ _

__"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement will find them," he told Mitchell, trying to sound sure of himself. "They'll catch them, and, and stop whatever they're doing, and make sure your dad's friend is all right. They really will."_ _

__"Yeah," Mitchell muttered._ _

__Neither of them sounded very sure of themselves._ _


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which there is only so long the students of Hogwarts can keep meekly obeying safety rules. I mean, really.
> 
> This is another short chapter, because the point at which it ends seems like a natural stopping place, and also because I have to think some more about exactly what happens next.
> 
> **Warnings:** None needed, I think. Except I'm kind of winging it with regards to the layout of the castle and grounds, and would appreciate it if you would all kindly go along with me!

"So have you actually talked to Professor Sprout yet?" Mitchell asked quietly, as the first-year Hufflepuffs walked down the corridor on their way toward Herbology on Monday morning. Loki was silent, and Mitchell prodded him: _"Loki."_

Actually, what he said sounded more like, _"Looo-ki,"_ but never mind. And he already knew the answer to his question, but never mind that, either. 

"I... I thought we all had enough to worry about at the weekend," Loki muttered. 

"But you are going to talk to her, right?" Annie said sternly. Loki wriggled, glancing ahead at Professor Sinistra, the astronomy teacher, who was accompanying the group to the great entry doors. 

"Well, I thought-- " he mumbled, then glanced around at his friends and wilted. "Yes. Yes, I'm going to talk to her. It's just-- " He looked pleadingly at the others. "It's just that everyone seems to have forgotten about, about what Thor said about me. Maybe he's stopped. Maybe he's not saying it anymore."

"Or maybe everyone's just distracted right now, and the minute things die down they'll all remember," George suggested quietly. 

Loki didn't answer, because of course he knew George was probably right. 

Before they could say anything else, they were at the door leading out to the courtyard, and Professor Sinistra waved them to a halt. 

"All right, Mr. Stark, they're all yours," the professor announced. The Head Boy stepped forward, eyeing the first-years with a mischievous expression. 

"You lot shouldn't just assume I'm really me," he pointed out. "We ought to have come up with a password or something." 

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Mr. Stark," Professor Sinistra protested, which momentarily made Loki wonder whether _she_ really was who she said she was. 

"What did I tell you?" Mitchell hissed to his friends, which didn't help, either.

A thought crossed Loki's mind, and he spoke up before he lost his nerve: "Which of the Beatles did you tell us Professor McGonagall used to fancy?" he asked Stark. 

Stark looked at him in surprise, and then his eyes crinkled up in amusement as he remembered the incident. "I said Paul McCartney, but I was wrong-- she claims she preferred John Lennon. Good enough?" 

Losing his nerve, Loki nodded hastily. Professor Sinistra, who still seemed to think the whole thing was a waste of time (and that, to be honest, didn't make Loki feel especially safe in her care) rolled her eyes and walked back into the castle. Stark made a follow-me gesture and led the way down the path that led around to the back of the castle, where the greenhouses were. 

As they trudged along, Loki wrestled with his thoughts. None of them were very pleasant. He hadn't heard a word from Thor after his misadventure. Maybe, he told himself stubbornly, maybe that just meant nobody had told Thor what had happened to Loki. Maybe he just didn't _know_ yet.

Which didn't make any sense, and Loki knew it. It was true the teachers hadn't told the whole school all the ugly details-- in the assembly that renewed the precautions, Professor McGonagall just explained there was recent evidence that the escapees might be in the area. She had said nothing then about an attack on a student. 

Still, the Hufflepuffs knew, and so did all the prefects, as well as whoever happened to be within hearing when the prefects were told to come look for the missing first-year-- Loki knew they must have been taken aside, but he had no doubt _some_ of these conversations had been overheard. The castle was huge, but the population inside it was quite small, and very closely connected, and news hummed through it like word about fresh flowers through a beehive.

Everybody knew what had happened to Loki. _Volstagg,_ for goodness sake, had sent a short note, which was delivered by one of the prefects. It was just a quick scrawl to say he was sorry to hear about the fright Loki'd had, and that he hoped Loki was all right. It had probably taken him only a few seconds to write but still, he'd done it. 

And still Thor said nothing, did nothing, came nowhere near Loki. 

Thor didn't care. 

Professor Sprout had told them their houses at Hogwarts would become like their families. It was obvious that Gryffindor was all the family Thor needed. Loki didn't understand that-- as much as he loved Hufflepuff and the people in it, he wanted to have his _real_ family, too. He still sent himself to sleep some nights telling himself stories about the Christmas holidays. Of his mother taking him to St. Mungo's to meet her colleagues, and his father talking in that friendly way about how he loved the _tu-whoo_ call of the tawny owl. Of his mother holding his hand and promising she would listen to him, and his father asking him questions about his schoolwork, as if he was really interested. (In the stories this was never frightening.) Loki held onto the warmth of those memories, of knowing at least he'd been wrong about his parents, that they really did love and want him, and maybe they always had. 

Of course, he reflected, their parents had both been in Gryffindor, so they would still be part of Thor's family no matter what. Loki wondered, briefly, what Thor would have done if their mother had been in Hufflepuff like so many other people who grew up to be healers. He abandoned the thought as pointless: Thor had always been lucky, and he was lucky again because the outsider was only Loki, the family member Thor didn't want anyway. 

As they approached the greenhouses, Loki was wondering what Thor would have done if Loki _had_ been Sorted into Gryffindor. If he'd been forced to decide whether his house family ties trumped his wish to be rid of his tiresome little brother. Probably, Loki decided, Thor would have thought of some way to get around the problem. 

He was jerked out of these cheerful thoughts when Stark made a noise of irritation. 

"What the dickens is he-- ?" the Head Boy muttered. Loki glanced in the direction Stark was looking. 

There was a clump of shrubbery up ahead, just beyond the greenhouses, one of several that created a natural separation between the leafy section of grounds occupied by the greenhouses, and the more open space where flying practice took place. Loki stared at the shrubbery, unable at first to see what Stark was looking at. 

And then his heart plummeted, his stomach lurching, as he saw something _move._

"What's that?" George whispered fearfully, edging closer to his friends. 

"You mean _who's_ that," Annie whispered back. As she spoke, Loki realized she was right: the black shape he could vaguely see in the shrubbery wasn't a thing, it was a person. A boy, wearing a black robe. 

A short, skinny, ratty-looking boy, his whole body tense as he spied on something in the flying area. 

It was Barney Barton. 

Loki knew the fourth-years had a free period now (he knew his brother's schedule nearly as well as his own, and this time slot was empty for the whole of Thor's year.) Ordinarily there would have been no actual _rule_ to stop Barney lurking in the shrubbery, but of course with the safety precautions in place he certainly wasn't supposed to lurk without a teacher or a prefect to supervise him.

Stark glanced down at the Hufflepuffs. "I have to deal with this," he said softly. "Come along, and be really quiet, okay?"

Loki hoped nobody chanced to be looking out any of the windows that gave onto the grounds right now, because he suspected the sight of the Head Boy creeping along, shadowed by a patter of first-years, was one that would never be lived down. But they were all quiet, the snow underfoot muffling their footsteps, and Barney's attention was entirely focused on what- or whoever he was spying on. 

The last time Loki had seen Stark speak to Barney Barton, it was the day of the fight with Thor, when Barney had called Peggy Carter a mudblood. Stark had been really angry that day, had looked at Barney with disgust and anger.

Now, though, he spoke quietly and without heat as he came up behind the other boy:

"What on earth are you doing?"

Barney squeaked and whirled around, looking up at Stark in terror before his eyes widened in recognition. A moment later, his face fell back into its usual sullen mask. 

Before he could answer, though, the whole group looked over his shoulder to see what-- or rather, _who--_ he was watching. 

The Gryffindor first-years had double Potions with Slytherin this morning, while the Hufflepuffs had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Ravenclaw. Afterward there was a fifteen-minute break, which was spent in their respective classrooms waiting for their escorts to their next classes. Gryffindor of course had Herbology this period, with Hufflepuff, and someone was supposed to bring the Gryffindors to Greenhouse One as Stark had brought Hufflepuff. 

Apparently, Clint Barton had given their escort the slip, sneaking off to join Thor, whose time was his own but who was probably supposed to be in his common room right now. It was pretty obvious they intended to do some extra flying practice, since they were both carrying broomsticks. The two of them stood at the far side of the clearing, out of the sight-line of most of the castle windows, while Thor talked to Clint. They were still holding their brooms, so Loki assumed Thor was giving Clint pointers on his technique before they mounted up and took off.

Some prefect or teacher was going to get in terrible trouble over this. 

Loki kind of sympathized with the two, actually: if it hadn't been for the terrible fright he'd gotten just a few days ago, he'd have been chafing against the new restrictions, himself. And of course, in Thor and Clint's case, there was the added irritation of knowing these restrictions were all the fault of their, their mutual enemy, Loki. Why should they suffer, just because Loki had gotten himself locked in a classroom in the dark?

Understanding the impulse didn't make Loki any less angry at the idea, and when he glanced up at Stark, the Head Boy's face was set in fury, too. He muttered a word he probably wasn't supposed to use in front of first-years, then looked around at them. 

"Stay here, all of you, and stick together. This will just take a minute." He looked sharply at Barney. "You too, Barton. I mean it."

Barney's lower lip stuck out rebelliously as he set his jaw, but he said nothing and he didn't try to run away. Stark actually patted him on the shoulder, and Barney seemed to soften a little. Meanwhile, Stark directed his attention back to the two wayward Gryffindors. Loki also looked toward his brother, and the boy Thor obviously _wished_ was his brother, as they prepared to mount their brooms. Stark took a step forward, opening his mouth to call out to them.

And three tall figures suddenly emerged from the stand of shrubbery nearest the woods. 

Loki found his hands flying to his mouth, suppressing a cry of terror. Stark took a startled, stumbling step forward, just as one of the three, a woman with long muddy-brown hair, flicked her wand from one boy to the other, and called out, 

_"Imperio!"_

Thor and Clint jerked, and then turned toward her, their expressions blank. Stark raised his wand, but he obviously realized they too far away for him to cast a counter-curse. As the horrified Hufflepuffs and Slytherins watched, the woman gestured. Both Gryffindor boys dropped their broomsticks and docilely followed her toward the Forbidden Forest. 

The other two intruders were men, one of them tall and thin with black hair and pale skin, the other with gingery hair. They ran forward to pick up Thor's Lightning Bolt and the school broom Clint had been carrying. The black-haired man reached down to pick up something from the ground, probably a wand dropped by Thor or Clint. 

From the edge of the Forest, the woman called sharply, and Loki's breath caught in his chest as he heard her. 

And then all five of them disappeared into the Forest. 

Stark, his face white with horror, looked around at the others. "Get to Greenhouse One and tell Professor Sprout what just happened. Barton, you go with them. Stick together, all of you, and _run."_

Without waiting to see if he had been obeyed, Stark, wand in hand, started across the clearing toward where the others had gone into the Forest. 

Barney immediately said something under his breath and took off after Stark. Dennis grabbed at his cloak. 

"Barton, no. Stark said-- "

Without even looking at him, Barney slapped Dennis's hand away. "That's _my little brother_ they just took. You lot go and bring help, as quick as you can. I'm going after Clint."

Loki made a decision. The next moment he was slithering through the bushes after Barney. He could hear someone following him-- more than one someone-- but he didn't look back. 

Whatever Thor wanted to believe, he and Loki were brothers, at least as far as Loki was concerned, and Loki wasn't leaving him to be kidnapped and... and hurt by Death Eaters. 

And there was something else, too.

When the tall, thin black-haired man stopped to pick up the fallen broomsticks and whatever the other thing was, Loki had heard what the woman called to him:

_"Hurry up, Felix!"_

_Felix._ Felix Campbell-Hardwicke.

Wand clutched in his hand, Loki ran after Barney and Stark into the Forbidden Forest, where Loki's brother had just been taken by Loki's birth parents.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** Okay, everyone, new plan: I'd been posting fairly frequent, quite long chapters over the summer, but we're getting into the busy season at my job and writing time might be more sporadic. I'm therefore going to go with shorter, more focused chapters as we get along to the end of this story. Hopefully, that will allow me to keep posting regularly and also advancing the plot in a logical way. We're definitely in the home stretch anyhow!
> 
> Someone pointed out, in the comments on one of the sites where this is posted, that the story can't end yet because it isn't the end of the school year. That bothered me as well but really, I don't have enough complicated ideas to spin this out all term, and since there are several things to come to a head, I figured they should all come to a head together. And then, for once, the students can look forward to a peaceful last few weeks at Hogwarts!
> 
> **Warnings:** Child endangerment (although since this is a Harry Potter crossover I suppose that kind of goes without saying!)

Stark wasn't happy when he realized he was being followed by Barney and four-- because of course Annie, George, and Mitchell had run after Loki-- Hufflepuff first-years. In fact, he threatened to Imperius the lot of them and force them to go back to the castle. Barney put his hand on his own wand when Stark uttered the threat, but Loki wasn't fooled by it. The Head Boy's expression looked like Loki imagined his own had, that awful day last summer when he had threatened to tell on Thor about the jinx duels with his friends. Stark was bluffing.

Really, he probably couldn't even _do_ an Imperius curse-- the first thing you learned when you started at Hogwarts was, there was more to magic than waving a wand and uttering funny words. That was why you had to practice spells in the first place: you had to find the intent and the concentration to make them work. Maybe an older, really experienced witch or wizard could make a curse like Imperius work on the first try, but most people would have to work at it, and Stark certainly didn't spend his free time practicing Dark magic to control his friends and force them to do things against their will. 

"You can't make us go back, and we're wasting time," Barney argued, pale with anger and desperation. It took about five seconds for Stark to see sense. 

"All right, just… stay close and be careful. And stay behind me, all of you," he ordered the younger kids. Loki nodded, and then they all plunged into the Forbidden Forest. 

What with the snow underfoot and the short headstart, it should have been easy to catch up with the fugitives. In the first place, Loki expected a clear track in the snow that they could follow. Instead, it turned out the forest was choked with undergrowth that messed up the snow so it hardly showed prints. They also should have been able to hear the others moving ahead of them, but either the forest swallowed all sound, or the escapees were using some kind of charm to mask the sounds they made, because Loki couldn't hear anything except the creak of tree branches and the scuttle of unseen little creatures. He looked around at his friends, saw their faces set with anxiety and confusion, and realized they were having no more luck than himself.

Remembering how Bronwyn had found him, Loki wished he had had the presence of mind to run to the owlery for Thor's barn owl, Solomon. And then he realized that, of course, Solomon would have just flown over the forest to Thor. Anyone trying to follow him would have to do so on a broomstick, which would leave them easy to see and open to attack as they tried to land.

It didn't take long for Stark to realize the same thing Loki had, that they were in a practically trackless forest and at more risk of getting lost than of catching up to the bad guys. He looked around frantically for a moment, apparently lost in thought, then pointed his wand in the general direction they thought the escapees had gone, and closed his eyes. 

_"Sequuntio,"_ he said softly. A greenish glow emerged from the end of his wand and, for just a moment, footprints showed golden on the snow. Stark's eyes flew open, but the footprints faded just as fast as they appeared, too quickly for them to really see where they led. Stark muttered another word he probably wasn't supposed to use. 

And then he turned to Barney and Loki. "You two are going to have to try," he announced, grabbing Barney by the arm to keep him from bolting off in the general direction indicated by the footprints. 

"Try what?" Loki asked. 

"Sequuntio. It's a following charm," Stark explained. "It shows you the tracks of the person or animal you want to catch up to. The problem is, you have to _really want_ to find the person you're following."

"And you _don't?"_ Barney demanded, looking furious and betrayed. Loki thought he probably looked pretty much the same.

Stark made a face. "I want to catch up to them, all right. The problem is, this is the only following charm I've ever learned, and its purpose is to help you find lost loved ones, or missing pets or something. It's for lost creatures you care about, not for _hunting._

"The thing is, I want to do something _terrible_ to those Death Eaters when we catch them, and I think that might be interfering with the charm: I'm not using it the way it's supposed to be used. I'll keep trying, but you two-- you're trying to find your _brothers."_ Stark glanced at Loki, almost apologetically. "It might be more than a first-year can manage, no matter how badly Loki wants to find Thor. So, Barney-- " 

Loki didn't miss the use of _Barney_ instead of _Barton,_ and he suspected Barney didn't, either. 

"Okay," Barney said gruffly, taking out his wand. His knuckles were white as he clenched it. When Loki pulled out his own wand, he saw his own hand looked exactly the same.

"Okay," Stark said, "both of you, think really hard about your brothers. Think about finding them. Just that. As hard as you can." 

Loki took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He imagined Thor, as hard as he could. Thor, standing in a clearing among the trees, unhurt and glad to see him. The picture wobbled, and Loki let it go. Then he pictured Thor again, looking scared. That was much easier, because he knew Thor _would_ be scared, the moment the Imperius curse was lifted and he realized what was going on. It was easier to imagine that than trying to pretend he would ever be happy to see Loki. 

It didn't _matter_ if he ever was happy to see Loki. It didn't matter if they were never friends, ever. Loki just wanted him to be safe.

"Okay," Stark said softly. "Once you have your brothers clear in your mind, I want you to say the incantation: _sequuntio._ When you're ready."

You couldn't rush magic, and Loki knew it. That led to rotten magic. Still, the urge to just blurt out the incantation was awful, even though he knew perfectly well that would probably result in him having to start all over again. 

_Thor._ Thor was out there somewhere. He was out there scared, and in danger, and Loki had to find him and bring help. _Had to._

Loki took a deep breath, let it out, and raised his wand. _"Sequuntio,"_ he breathed. He was concentrating so hard, he didn't even hear Barney and Stark saying the same word. 

When Loki opened his eyes, there were two sets of golden tracks gleaming before them. The smaller ones shone brightest, but the big ones were perfectly readable, too. Beside them, a tangle of other prints was briefly visible and then winked out. 

Stark exhaled. "Okay. Good job, both of you. Stick close, everyone." Annie patted Loki's hand and George and Mitchell his back in congratulation, and they all crept after Stark. 

Having the tracks to follow was a huge help, but they had to go carefully and quietly so as not to be heard. Stark might have known some charms that would make it hard for the people they followed to hear their approach, but he probably had enough on his mind without adding yet another spell on top. And anyway, the only spell Loki knew of that would do the job was Muffliato, which caused a buzzing in the ears of anyone nearby-- which meant that, if you knew what to pay attention to, you'd at least know there was someone casting the charm near you. Which of course would only serve to alert their quarry, anyway. 

It was mid-morning and the sun set early at this time of year, which meant it should be quite high in the sky by now. You wouldn't know that here in the Forest, though: the feeble late-winter sun could hardly reach down through the tangled branches overhead, and the shadows reached out for them from everywhere. 

Loki tried not to think about that. He was still a little shaken up, hadn't slept at all well in the two nights since his misadventure. In fact, he'd actually made himself ask the other boys if it was all right to leave a lamp lit next to his bed. The other first years had been very nice about it, and George and Mitchell even tried to sit up with him. They'd ended up falling asleep anyway, but Loki was grateful to them for trying. And listening to the others breathing quietly in their sleep had finally soothed Loki to sleep, too. 

Of course, he wasn't trying to sleep now, but the Forbidden Forest certainly wasn't the Hufflepuff dormitory, where Loki could usually remember the shadows were friendly. Here in the Forest, they weren't, and that wasn't even his imagination. There was even a little comfort in knowing he wasn't making it all up-- George, on the first day of Defense Against the Dark Arts, had said something like that, about how it was almost a relief to know there _were_ things to be afraid of, instead of having people tell you your fears weren't real and you were stupid to have them.

He was afraid now, all right, and had plenty of reason to be. But he wasn't any more frightened than anyone else, even Stark, who was probably scared to death of losing one of the younger students with him as he tried to rescue the other two. Really, Loki felt bad about that. 

Not bad enough to volunteer to drop out of the pursuit, though. Not when it was _his_ parents who had, for reasons Loki didn't understand yet, kidnapped _his_ brother. And Barney's brother too, of course. 

Stark suddenly came to a halt, holding out a hand to keep the others from trying to pass him by. 

"Shh," he whispered, although by now that wasn't necessary: all of them could hear the tramp of feet, the crackle of large bodies breaking through the snowy underbrush all around them. It sounded like a lot more than three fugitives, but Loki's breath still caught in his throat as he thought of the many dangerous and unfriendly creatures that were known to live here in the Forbidden Forest. Werewolves. Acromantulas-- the giant spiders not even Hagrid could safely encounter. Hippogriffs, which-- according to the book his parents had given him for his birthday-- weren't Dark creatures, but could certainly be dangerous. 

The noises grew louder, and Loki's heart thumped as he realized they were surrounded. 

Stark gestured desperately at the undergrowth. Catching his meaning, Barney pushed Mitchell, hard, toward a sort of thicket, and nearly slung George after him. "Hide," he hissed at Loki and Annie. Then he gave Stark a fierce look when it seemed like the head boy would try to make him do the same. Stark just nodded at him, and then both boys gripped their wands in fearful defiance, turning to try and keep an eye on all the approaching creatures at once. 

"What are you doing, here in our Forest?" asked a deep voice. Loki and his friends peeked through the underbrush-- and Loki nearly cried out in relief when he recognized the half-horse, half-human shapes of centaurs surrounding them. 

Stark swallowed hard and, obviously trying to keep his voice steady, replied, "There are human criminals hiding here in the forest, and they've kidnapped two boys from the school. My friend and I are trying to rescue them. Please let us pass." 

The centaur who had spoken was chestnut-bodied and red-haired. He frowned at Stark's words. 

"There are more here than just you two," he said, in an accusing tone. "We heard your approach, and also your warnings to the others to hide. Are you bringing a force here, to infiltrate our home?"

"Don't be-- " Barney started to reply, and Stark clamped a hand down on his shoulder before he could say something really insulting to the proud centaurs. 

"Come on out, guys," Stark said quietly. Loki, Annie, George and Mitchell did, slithering through branches and then standing next to the older boys. 

The centaurs-- Loki counted seven in a loose ring around them, although there might have been others in a second rank further back in the underbrush-- looked them over. Loki's relief had already begun to leak away when the centaurs spoke, and now he found himself as frightened as ever. Centaurs were as intelligent as humans and they certainly didn't attack anyone without what they considered a good reason, but Loki had momentarily forgotten that most of them didn't like or trust humans. It crossed his mind to wonder exactly what a centaur would consider _a good reason_ to attack someone. Trespassing, maybe.

You really couldn't blame the centaurs for their attitude, of course, since humans (whether magical or not) often behaved very badly toward other species. Knowing that wasn't a whole lot of comfort when you were looking up at someone who was nearly seven feet tall when he stood fully upright, and wondering what he intended to do to you. 

The chestnut spokes-centaur took an unhurried step toward the huddled first-years. Annie grabbed Loki's hand, and Loki grabbed Mitchell's, and he was pretty sure Mitchell grabbed George's. They didn't move, though. 

After a long, considering pause, the chestnut centaur turned toward Stark. 

"These are mere foals," he said, with disapproval clear in his voice. "Why do you bring them here, where so much danger awaits?" He was evidently not including himself and his friends in the "so much danger" category, but Loki really didn't like the centaur's expression as he faced Stark again.

"He didn't want us to come," Mitchell said quickly. "He told us to stay back at the school, where it was safe, but my friend-- " he gestured at Loki-- "is the brother of one of the boys who was kidnapped. He had to come after his brother, and we had to come after him." 

A second centaur-- lighter chestnut, with a flaxen tail, bigger and burlier than the first-- spoke up. 

"This forest is not a place for the young and helpless." His grey eyes raked Stark up and down. "You will take these foals back to the castle of Hogwarts, before any harm befalls them." 

"He will _not,"_ Loki retorted, his voice high with tension. 

"We don’t have time to fight with you about this," Stark added, tension making his voice sharp. "Just step aside and let us go."

It was the wrong thing to say. Loki didn't know exactly _why_ it was the wrong thing to say, but he certainly noticed the centaurs all suddenly go still and become somehow even more threatening. 

"You would order us, human?" asked the first centaur, in the sort of calmly reasonable voice Professor Fury might use just before he gave you detention for the rest of your life. Loki had the feeling these centaurs might have even worse ways of expressing their offence. "In our own home, you would command us like beasts?"

"That's not what he meant," Annie said hastily, and flinched when all the centaurs turned to look at her. She clutched at Loki's hand. "It's, it's not an order. Humans just talk like that when we're scared or in a hurry, and right now we're both. What he meant was, please let us go find our friends. Their brothers," she added, gesturing at Loki and Barney. "Please," she repeated, in a nervous squeak. 

Loki held his breath. Centaurs were herd creatures, weren't they? Surely that meant they'd want to save a friend or family member, would understand what Loki and his friends wanted to do? 

After a long pause, the first centaur looked at the second and nodded. 

And then he stepped out of the way. 

"On your head be it," he said, with a disapproving look from Stark to Loki and the others. If he was genuinely concerned with protecting the younger kids, Loki thought, it would make more sense for them to offer to help, but he had enough sense not to suggest anything of the sort. 

"Thank you," Annie said, politely and with dignity.

A moment later, much more quietly than they had gathered, the centaurs were gone. 

Stark blew out a breath that it sounded like he'd been holding for a while. Then he smiled shakily at Annie. 

"Thanks, kid," he said. 

"You're welcome," Annie replied gravely. 

Of course the magical footprints had faded away while they were talking to the centaurs. Loki and the others were just taking out their wands, to renew the following charm, when they heard the sounds of yet more creatures approaching. 

"Are they coming back?" Mitchell wondered out loud. 

"That's not centaurs," George whispered, eyes wide. "The footfalls are wrong." He gulped. "Unless there's such a thing as a centaur with _eight legs."_

"Oh, _crap,"_ Stark gulped, the colour draining from his face. Loki could feel his own breath coming short: acromantulas. It had to be acromantulas.

"What are we going to do?" Barney asked, looking at Stark as if he trusted the older boy to solve the problem. Loki was trying to remember what his book said about the giant spiders, but he hadn't read the chapter closely enough. 

"We climb a tree," George said quickly. Everyone looked at him. George flapped his hands. "Up, quick! They _can_ climb, but they don't _like_ to, and when they're on the ground they don't usually look up. Hurry!"

It turned out Barney and Mitchell could climb like squirrels, and they reached down to help Loki, Annie, and George up as Stark boosted them from below. Loki was ready to shriek in anxiety by the time Stark finally pulled himself up into the branches of the leafless oak they had chosen-- just in time, as what looked like a _carpet_ of huge grey hairy giant spiders went scuttling underneath their perch. 

Really, it was hard to imagine creatures as big as these being able to climb a tree, even one the size of this oak: the smallest of them was the size of a small car, at least to Loki's horrified eyes. He still held perfectly still with a hand over his mouth, in case he made any little sound that might draw the spiders' attention. And he hoped with everything in him that they didn't happen to go in the same direction the three prisoners had taken Thor and Clint. 

The spiders were obviously going somewhere in particular, because they hurried along with the single-minded determination of Muggle traffic on a motorway. In a surprisingly short time they were gone, the sounds of their many feet fading into the distance. Even so, it was a few minutes more before the students were able to gather the courage to climb back down out of the tree. 

"Okay," Stark whispered, with a smile he obviously hoped would be reassuring, "let's try that again."

They re-cast the _sequuntio_ charm, and to everyone's relief the shining footprints went off at an angle from the tracks made by the spiders. Stark took the lead once again, and as the footprints grew brighter Loki realized they were catching up. They gathered more tightly together, trying to huddle at the same time they also attempted to move in complete silence. 

And then they could hear voices. Loki held his breath as Stark gestured for everyone to stop and listen. They still couldn't make out words, but the murmur coming from up ahead was definitely human. 

And then, abruptly, someone screamed.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** Another short one--sorry about another delay, I was out of town and offline over the weekend. Have some whump!
> 
>  **Warnings:** Child endangerment and whump.

The scream seemed to go on and on, high and wavering and agonized. Then, abruptly, it broke off into whimpering gasps. The voice wasn't shrill enough to be Clint: it sounded older, but not by much. 

Thor. It had to be Thor. 

Loki didn't remember deciding to do anything, or even moving. One moment he was standing behind Stark, waiting for the older boy to tell them what to do. 

The next, he was face-down on the snowy ground with Barney on top of him, a woolly mitten clamped over his mouth. Loki tried to fight and Barney just leaned on him harder.

"Be quiet," he hissed, "and _calm down."_ There was menace in the older boy's voice and Loki froze, but Barney didn't do anything else. He waited for a moment and then whispered, "If I let you go, will you be sensible?" Loki nodded. Barney released him and got up. 

Loki was too embarrassed to look at any of his friends-- how could he have been so _stupid,_ what did he think he was going to do against grown witches or wizards? Barney, strangely, stayed right next to him instead of moving away in disgust. Even more strangely, Loki realized he found that kind of comforting. 

And then he forgot all about Barney, because Thor was screaming again. George and Annie both had their hands over their ears, and tears were running down Annie's face. Loki might have been crying himself, but if so he didn't notice. He just looked at Stark, hoping the older boy could fix this-- or at least make it _stop._

Stark's expression wasn't exactly reassuring: he actually looked like he was on the verge of either bursting into tears, himself, or being sick. He was also pretty obviously trying to think of what to do, and not coming up with anything helpful.

They couldn't see anything through the trees, and up to this point Thor's screaming was the only sound they could hear. Now, when he broke off into bubbling gasps, another voice spoke up. In a tone that sounded a bit like Loki imagined a poisonous snake might if she was talking to a mouse, the witch who had cast the Imperius curse on Thor and Clint spoke:

"Will you still tell us this brat is no brother of yours?"

Thor was gulping, the way you did when you were crying too hard to speak clearly-- Loki knew what that felt like-- but he managed to blubber, "... not."

"He's _not?"_ the witch demanded, her tone sweetly deadly. 

"N-no," Thor managed to say. "He's-- he's just a boy from my house. He n-needed some extra help with his flying, so I was just-- " 

_"Crucio!"_

Thor broke off, screaming again, and the witch shouted over the sound:

 _"Liar!_ We know your father has two sons, and why else would you bother with a little whelp like this-- "

 _"He's not my brother!"_ Thor shrieked, and a male voice, cool and amused and aristocratic, broke in:

"Catriona, it's not that I want to spoil your fun, but I think even you should be able to tell the brat is speaking the truth." 

"I'll _make him-- "_ the witch snarled, and the male voice drawled, 

"We both know you how you enjoy employing the Cruciatus curse, but if you keep it up all you're going to do is make him say whatever he thinks will make you stop. Boy, this really isn't your brother, is he?" Loki pictured Felix Campbell-Hardwicke-- skinny and pale, with his black hair and light-coloured eyes-- standing over Thor, looking down at him in evil amusement. Loki hadn't actually gotten a good enough look at the man to tell what colour his eyes were, but it was obvious Loki must resemble him. He hoped Thor didn't notice that. 

Thor sniffled, but if he gave any answer it wasn't out loud. And then a third adult spoke up, in a burring Scottish-accented voice that Loki probably would have found pleasant, if Loki hadn't been so terrified and the voice hadn't sounded as choked with fright and tears as Thor's:

"Why don't you just Imperius him again?"

"Shut up," ordered the witch, at the same time the drawling male voice replied, "And where is the fun in that? We could have just Imperiused you, if it comes to it, but it's so much more entertaining to... _persuade_ you to do what we want you to." He paused, and then-- in a tone of light menace-- he went on, "Do you need to be _persuaded_ some more, do you think?" 

The ginger-haired wizard didn't reply, but Loki could imagine him shrinking away from the black-haired one. There was an ugly moment of silence, and then the light, drawling voice addressed Thor again:

"All right, then. If this pup isn't your brother, _where is he?_ You might as well tell us willingly. We're perfectly capable of making you. Ask Mr. Sinclair here if you don't believe us." There was a gulp that might have come from Thor, or from the Campbell-Hardwickes' unwilling accomplice. "Come along, Odinson, speak up or Catriona here will have to have another word with you. And we both know what that word will be, don't we, boy? I'll give you a hint, it begins with a _C_ and ends with agonized screaming." His tone made it sound as if he was telling a funny story at a party, and Loki wished he knew a spell to drop a tree on his biological father. 

"He's not... he's not _here,"_ Thor mumbled. 

"I beg your pardon?" demanded Felix Campbell-Hardwicke, his light tone going suddenly hard. "What was that?"

"He's not here," Thor repeated, weeping so hard he was difficult to understand. "At Hogwarts. I don't know who told you he was, but he's _not,_ he's _ten,_ he's, he's-- "

 _"Crucio!"_ Felix wasn't drawling one bit, now, and over Thor's renewed screams they could hear Sinclair shouting, 

"Will you _stop it,_ he's a _kid,_ you're going to _kill him!"_

"We're not sloppy enough for a mistake like that," Catriona assured him, in the horribly sweet voice again. "When we kill him, it will be on purpose." Loki started forward. Barney grabbed him again, and Stark, who was looking around as if trying to find a spot to mount an attack, reached down without looking to pat Loki awkwardly on the chest. Loki hardly noticed, because Catriona-- his _mother--_ was speaking to Thor again: "Don't keep making this difficult, boy. Where is your brother?"

Sounding terrified, but maybe trying to play for time for Thor, Sinclair spoke up again:

"What do you even _want_ with the other kid? What use is a little boy to you?"

Loki froze, breath catching in his throat. _What if they knew?_ All his terrible fantasies, the ones about his biological parents reclaiming him, had involved Loki being sent to Azkaban and someone _telling_ them who was being put in their cell with them. He had wondered if his birth parents ever thought about him, if they wondered what had become of him (had hoped they didn't), but he had assumed they didn't know. 

Now, he wondered-- what if they were here at Hogwarts because of _him?_ What if all this was _his_ fault? 

Thor had already disowned Loki as his brother when he figured out Loki was adopted. What would he do if he found out who Loki's _real_ \-- no, his _birth_ \-- parents were?

"What do we _want_ with him? He's a _start,"_ Catriona snarled. "Odin Odinson is only one of those who defeated our aims, cast down our master, ruined our life's work-- he captured and imprisoned and destroyed us, and _we will destroy him_. His hopes and dreams will all be tied up in his brats, and when he loses them he will lose everything. We know how his kind think, with their little ambitions and their short-sighted vision. We will begin with his children, and when he comes to seek revenge we'll have him, too."

Annie grabbed at Loki's hand, Stark put a hand on his shoulder, and Sinclair-- sounding more frightened by the minute but also apparently more repulsed by the plot the more he knew about it-- protested, 

"You mean to say you've gone to all this, all this trouble and work, just to get revenge on one Ministry official? What could you possibly think that's going to accomplish?"

"It will be, it will be _something,"_ Catriona shouted, and now she sounded tearful as well as crazy and evil. "All our life's work, all our hopes, the dreams of our master, we will, we must do _something_ to avenge it all-- _Tell us where we can find your brother!"_

"London! He's in London!" Thor cried out, voice high and desperate. "Someone made a mistake, whoever told you, they told you the wrong thing, he's not at Hogwarts yet, he's only ten!" 

And then there was more screaming from Thor, and incoherent ranting from Catriona, and Sinclair shouted a protest and Felix shouted back-- Loki didn't recognize the incantation but it must have been a curse, because Sinclair screamed and then fell silent-- 

\-- and Stark must have decided no good plan was going to come to him no matter how long he thought, because he suddenly pushed through the undergrowth in a rush, wand in his hand-- with Loki and Barney right behind him-- and shouted, 

_"Expelliarmus!"_ There was a jet of red light, and Catriona Campbell-Hardwicke was blown backwards, long brown hair flying over her face, wand torn from her hand. Loki looked past her to where Sinclair was standing, while Felix, mouth bleeding, tried to stagger to his feet. 

_What?_

Sinclair-- or, rather, the ginger-haired wizard Loki had assumed was Sinclair-- whirled to point his wand at Stark, who quickly shouted, _"Levicorpus!"_ because apparently he was in no state to practice non-verbal magic. The ginger-haired wizard's feet were yanked out from under him and he flew up in the air to dangle as if from an ankle. He flailed wildly, but unfortunately didn't drop his wand. Stark cursed. Barney glanced around, spotted a pile of gear that included some cooking stuff, and took a chance. 

_"Accio_ knife!" he shouted, and a sharp-looking clasp knife came flying across the clearing toward him. He was able to catch it by the handle and tossed it toward Loki. "Cut them loose!" he ordered. Loki obeyed, picking up the knife and rushing toward his brother and Clint. Both of them were tied up, Clint with a piece of cloth stuffed so far into his mouth it was a wonder he hadn't suffocated. Loki yanked it out first and then fell to his knees behind Thor, sawing at the ropes that bound his brother's wrists. 

Catriona, on her hands and knees, was scrabbling toward her wand when George-- because Loki's friends had of course come running out after Loki-- pointed his and called out, _"Wingardium leviosa!"_ Catriona's wand flew up in the air-- and then just hung there, because first year hadn't gotten past simple levitation yet. The witch scrambled to her feet and made a leap toward her wand. She just missed it, and George desperately flicked his own wand to send the captured one higher.

 _"Finite!"_ shouted the dangling wizard, without a trace of a Scottish accent, and the spell on himself and the one on Catriona's wand both failed. He crashed to the snowy ground, and the black-haired wizard-- Sinclair, he had to be Sinclair, how could _he_ be _Sinclair?_ \-- wandless and still dazed-looking, tackled Felix. 

Which was probably all that saved Sinclair when Catriona got her wand back: the two wizards were in such a struggling tangle that it was impossible for her to cast a curse at one of them without hitting both. Instead, she turned on the three boys huddled together in the snow, Loki still desperately cutting through the last of the rope that bound his brother's wrists. Annie, who had run over to try and help, squeaked in panic and then grabbed a pine cone off the ground. She flicked her wand from the pine cone to Catriona's wand and uttered the incantation for a switching spell. 

This was the most complicated spell the first-years had attempted in Transfiguration, and nobody had managed to completely switch one object for another yet. So it was quite an accomplishment when Catriona's wand went short and fat and spiky in her hand, if only for a moment. The grown witch shrieked in surprise and nearly dropped her wand, and in that second Stark turned his own wand on her and shouted, _"Stupefy!"_

Once again, Loki's biological mother was blasted off her feet, and once again Loki felt a vicious jab of satisfaction. Then he had cut through the ropes tying Thor, and his brother stumbled to his feet. 

_"Run!"_ Stark shouted, and for once Barney didn't hesitate or try to argue: he ran over, scooped up the still-bound Clint, and flipped him over his shoulder. Loki and Annie got one on each side of the wobbly Thor, and all of them headed into the trees as fast as they could go. 

Felix and Sinclair were still wrestling on the ground when Mitchell and George ran up to help. Neither of them could perform a stunning spell yet, so Mitchell picked up the biggest rock he could find. Felix had just thrown off Sinclair and was grabbing for the black-haired man's throat when Mitchell ran up behind him and hit him in the head, as hard as he could. The ginger-haired wizard groaned and slumped to the ground, and George helped Mitchell help Sinclair to his feet. 

The black-haired wizard gaped at the two boys in recognition. "Where did _you_ come from?" he demanded, but when Catriona showed signs of recovering from Stark's spell he hastily added, "Never mind. Let's get out of here."

George was scuffling through the snow, looking for Felix's wand, but when the fallen wizard made a weak but purposeful grab for his ankles, George retreated hastily. Stark grabbed him by the shoulder, started to point his wand at Sinclair, then glanced down to see that Mitchell had the other man by the hand. 

"It's okay, really," Mitchell promised desperately. Stark looked very doubtful, but apparently he didn't have the heart to stun the third escapee and leave him with the other two. Across the clearing, Catriona managed to sit up, and nobody had the nerve to hang around scrabbling through the snow to see if they could find the Campbell-Hardwickes' wands first. 

"Go," Stark commanded, and covered everyone's retreat as they ran into the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Note:_** Okay, there was some speculation in comments and reviews that, maybe, the Campbell-Hardwickes were going to turn out to be not quite so bad as Loki imagined. Given my tendencies as a writer, that was a decent guess, since I write Loki-redemption stories and about half the villains in this series have turned out to be misguided or misunderstood. 
> 
> But. I am pretty sure I'm not the only one who sees a lot of World War II parallels in the Harry Potter stories, and the parallels I see make Voldemort the local equivalent of Hitler, which means his Death Eaters are the SS, and that means not only are the C-H's just as bad as Loki fears, they're actually probably worse. 
> 
> Sorry, Loki.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which we get some explanations, and I air out a few ideas I have about degrees of blood prejudice and so forth. In Harry Potter terms, I don't believe the Gaunts were unique.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Sorry about pausing the plot for this, but it seemed the best place for it-- Infamous Talking Chapter ahoy!

Their headlong flight into the forest lasted only until they got to what felt like a safe distance from the clearing where they had left the Death Eaters. ("Safe" being a relative term in the Forbidden Forest, obviously.) Finally, Stark hissed at everyone to slow down. Thor immediately pulled away from Loki and Annie, which made the frightened lump in Loki's throat turn even sharper and more painful. Stark waved Barney to turn at an angle, away from their original path, and they crept along as quietly as they could for at least another quarter of an hour. Finally, just when Loki didn't think he could take another step, Stark gestured to everyone to stop. 

With some help from Mitchell and George, Barney unslung Clint and set him down as gently as he could. 

"Odinson, do you still have that knife?" Barney asked Loki, who checked his pockets even though he distinctly remembered dropping the knife when he put his arm around Thor. He shook his head and felt even worse. Barney said nothing, just shrugged and started tugging at the knots that bound Clint's wrists. Loki folded his arms across his chest, suddenly aware how of cold he felt, and then sidled over to his friends. They gathered around him and he felt a little bit better. 

Stark, after listening carefully for a moment to decide if they were being pursued, turned to Sinclair, who was standing awkwardly behind the Hufflepuffs.

"You," he said shortly, "get away from those kids." The escapee nodded and started to move, but Mitchell grabbed his arm and held onto him. 

"It's okay," he protested, "he's a friend of my dad." Stark's eyebrows went up. Sinclair flushed, but Mitchell just looked stubborn.

"It's all right, lad," Sinclair murmured, disentangling himself and ruffling Mitchell's hair before moving back a step. 

Now that Loki could really look at him, he realized the man's dark hair was the only point of resemblance to himself: Sinclair was pale, yes, but that was probably just lack of sunlight, not his regular skin tone. And his eyes were brown, though not as dark as Mitchell's. Up close, Loki realized, the man didn't look anything like him-- Loki bore more resemblance to _Harry Potter,_ or Bronwyn from the Muggle school, at least in terms of his colouring. He had assumed Sinclair was Felix just because he thought he must look like _one_ of his parents, and he hadn't seen any similarities between himself and Catriona. 

Not, of course, that he had looked very closely. He hadn't wanted to. 

Maybe he had his mother's eyes, or something like that, Loki thought with a suppressed shudder. He'd rather not look like anybody in the world. And so far, it looked like he didn't.

Meanwhile, Mitchell was still trying to argue with Stark, which anyone could tell was a waste of his breath. The older boy finally said flatly, 

"Look, he's an escaped prisoner, and he was keeping company with Death Eaters. Maybe he's got a good explanation for everything, but we don't have time to talk about it right now. Until we get back to the castle, he stays away from all you firsties. Got it?" The last words were addressed to Sinclair.

"Fine," Sinclair replied evenly. But he added, "I'm a thief, not a Death Eater. I'm not here by choice." 

"That might be true," Stark said coolly, "but the only way I could believe you is if I had a dose of Veritaserum on me to give you. For now, I'm going to treat you as a threat. And if you do anything-- and I mean _anything--_ to make me think you're a danger to these kids, I swear I'll stun you and leave you for the Death Eaters and the Acromantulas. Behave yourself, and you can tell your story back at the castle and see who believes you. Deal?"

It didn't sound like much of a bargain to Loki, but then again it was certainly better than being left behind, helpless, in the dark forest. He shivered, wondering whether Stark would really do it. 

Sinclair looked at Stark for a moment as if he was wondering the same thing. Then he glanced around at the Hufflepuffs, looked back at Stark and nodded. 

"All right then," muttered Stark, and went over to where Barney was still struggling to untie his little brother. He murmured something and the tip of his wand glowed red-hot. 

"Hold still, okay?" he said to Clint, and a moment later there was a burning smell and Clint was shaking off pieces of rope. While Barney was helping rub circulation back into his brother's hands and feet, Stark knelt down and said, very quietly,

"That, back there, is the reason your parents were willing to die to help defeat the Death Eaters. They didn't want you to grow up in a world run by people like that. They did it for everyone, but probably mostly for you and your brother." Barney ducked his head and nodded, chewing his lower lip. Clint reached out hesitantly and patted his big brother's arm. Barney rumpled Clint's hair and then helped him to his feet. 

Loki realized he was staring and glanced away in embarrassment. Unexpectedly, he met his brother's eyes. Thor looked hastily down, flushing as if he was embarrassed about something, and Loki dropped his gaze to the ground.

"Okay," Stark said nervously, looking over his shoulder, "we had better move on. That way, I think." He gestured toward Sinclair. "You go first." 

Loki wondered how Stark could possibly have any idea which direction would take them back to the castle. Even when they entered the forest, it had been almost impossible to see the sun through the trees, and that was when it had been at its highest. Now the shadows were getting long, and even as scared as he already was, Loki could feel his heart beginning to beat faster. Annie took his hand and he felt, if not any braver, then at least not so alone. 

Thor looked back at them. Acting on impulse Loki said softly, "Thanks, Thor."

Thor flushed again, for some reason, and muttered, "For what?"

Loki wriggled. "For, for not telling on me. To... them. Even though they were hurting you." 

Thor blinked. "Of course I didn't tell on you. I'd never... not to people like that." He looked at Loki, glanced away, and then muttered, "And anyway, you're my little brother. I could never-- " Thor fell silent, and Loki wasn't brave enough to try again.

And he missed his chance, because Clint was having some trouble keeping up-- the ropes around his ankles had after all been really tight-- and Thor went over to offer to help him. Clint seemed to prefer Barney's help, but neither of the Bartons seemed to mind Thor joining them. Loki tried to swallow his disappointment-- at least Thor had acknowledged him, called Loki his brother. That was something, anyway. 

He and his friends hurried their steps to walk closer to Sinclair and Stark. The Head Boy was directly behind the escapee, glancing constantly back at the rest of the group to make sure he hadn't lost anyone. Loki imagined Stark wishing Professor Coulson was there, both for his magic and also for his border collie form.

They didn't talk, at first. Finally, though, Stark's curiosity, or maybe his desire to know exactly how dangerous their adult companion really was, got the better of him. 

"Okay," he said quietly, "if you're just a thief instead of a Death Eater, how did you end up keeping company like this?"

Loki felt his ears perk up, and as he glanced at his friends he saw them listening as hard as they could, too. They had guessed that the Scottish prisoner was supposed to help the other two navigate around a place that was unfamiliar to them. Now they'd turned up at Hogwarts, that explanation didn't seem to make sense after all: Hogwarts, and the nearby village of Hogsmeade, were practically the only parts of wizarding Britain that everybody knew their way around. 

Sinclair sighed. "Like I said, this wasn't anything I wanted. I'm a thief, not a killer. I was sent to Azkaban after I wasted one chance too many and a judge decided fines weren't teaching me anything." He shook his head. "Three years in that place was going to be plenty, even without Dementors. The problem was, those two-- their names are Felix and Catriona Campbell-Hardwicke-- had a plan, and they needed a guide to pull it off." 

So far, that was pretty much what Loki and his friends had guessed, although the reason they needed a guide to get around Hogwarts was still a puzzle.

Sinclair shivered. "Or so they said. I think they also wanted... someone to vent on." Loki tried not to imagine what form that must have taken.

"Why you?" Stark asked, looking very skeptical. Loki supposed he couldn't be blamed for that. 

Sinclair sighed. "A few reasons. First, I think they were just about sane enough to realize they needed help from a sneak. Those two aren't subtle, and anyway they worked behind the lines in the last war, torturing people. I expect their idea of 'infiltrating' is more 'charge in waving their wands and expect everyone to fall over in terror.' I suppose it worked when it was a big group of Voldemort's shock troops, but-- "

"Let's get back to your role, shall we?" Stark interrupted. "Why did they choose you?"

"Because," Sinclair said flatly, "my parents are old, and my children are young, and my wife is a Muggle. They claimed to have... friends... in London, people who could get to my family, and I didn't have the nerve to find out whether they were bluffing. They had leverage, all right?"

"All right," Stark agreed. "What did they want from you?"

"They needed a guide to Hogwarts. Someone who knew his way around. I didn't know what they wanted here, I swear-- although I can't say I would have refused them even if I had. I would have tried harder to get caught, though, if I had known they were after Frigga Odinson's kids instead of just potion ingredients."

"What about Frigga Odinson?" Stark asked, glancing quickly at Loki beside them. 

"I worked with her during the war, with Declan Mitchell and his gang-- Dec had the sense to go straight afterward, and I didn't. I did wonder why those two specifically wanted an accomplice who'd been in Gryffindor. They weren't best pleased when I told them Gryffindor tower was protected by passwords, like the Slytherin common room, so even though I knew my way around it I couldn't get them _in."_

"They wanted the potion ingredients to make Polyjuice," Stark prompted. "Tell me about that."

"Right. I figured, at first, they thought the school would be safer to break into, and the theft less likely to be noticed, than if we'd gone to a city and robbed an apothecary. I didn't ask why they wanted the Polyjuice, not even when they insisted they wanted something from Gryffindor kids and made me show them the Gryffindor changing rooms at the Quidditch pitch." He shrugged. "I really didn't want to know. Obviously, they figured that was where they'd find the Odinson kids." 

"How come they didn't know where the changing rooms are?" Loki spoke up, finally unable to control his curiosity. "Everyone at Hogwarts knows _that,_ even if they aren't in the house the changing room belongs to."

"They were never at Hogwarts," Sinclair explained. "If they had been, they wouldn't have needed me, Gryffindor or no Gryffindor."

"But _everyone_ goes to Hogwarts," Loki protested. 

"Not everyone," Sinclair replied. _"Most_ parents send their kids, even the ones who were pretty crazy on the subject of blood purity, back when I was a kid. I suppose a lot of those parents thought they were making a point about not being driven out by the _mudbloods-- "_ he made an apologetic face as he used the word-- "as if the Muggle-borns were doing anything to _keep_ them out, or doing anything except living their own lives and making their own place in our world. 

"But there have always been a small number of the most extreme blood-purist parents who kept their children at home, so they wouldn't be... _defiled_ by contact with Muggle-borns."

Loki knew about those beliefs, although of course he had never met anyone who thought that way. His parents would never dream of making friends with such people, and that sort of blood purist wouldn't have anything to do with the Ministry, or St. Mungo's, or anywhere they might meet "the wrong sort," if you could use such a mild term for their thinking. Ordinary blood snobs were bad enough, with their silly prejudices. This kind of person went beyond snobbery. This kind of purist was potentially really dangerous, because if they got tired of keeping themselves separate, their next solution was to get rid of the people they didn't want to be around. 

There was no law that said you _had_ to send your kids to Hogwarts, it was just that nearly everyone did. Loki knew that many-- probably most-- wizarding children received their early teaching at home, that going to Muggle school the way he and Thor had done was unusual. By the time they were ready for high school, most parents wanted their kids to meet new friends and learn new ideas, among wizards and witches their own age. 

Loki tried to imagine what it would have been like, cooped up at home with only the reluctant Thor for company, raised to believe there was something disgusting about Muggle children instead of going to school with them. He hadn't been friends with any Muggle kids, not really, but that was because he had to be secretive and hadn't been able to encourage them. Loki hadn't enjoyed that, it was lonely, but at least he had been able to work with his classmates in groups at school, had at least that much friendly contact with new people. 

If he'd had to stay home all alone all his life, being filled full of hatred, he probably would be as mad as the Campbell-Hardwickes by now. 

Of course, families who shared such extreme beliefs probably stuck together. You'd look down on _half-bloods,_ and hate families like the Odinsons, even though they were pureblood, because they were _blood traitors._ The only friends you were allowed to have would be people who reinforced your own hatreds and fears, and then you would grow up and marry each other because you didn't know anyone else and besides, you'd been taught everyone else was beneath you and probably ought to be destroyed. 

It must be a horrible way to grow up, all stunted and twisted. Loki found himself almost feeling sorry for the Campbell-Hardwickes, raised in such sad and ugly circumstances by their sad and ugly families. They wouldn't have had much chance to change their minds.

And then he remembered the way they had tortured Thor, wanted to kill both brothers just to hurt their father. He remembered they had been locked up in Azkaban for torturing and murdering Muggle-borns and Muggles, thinking they didn't deserve as much compassion as Loki had been taught to feel for _ants._

If things had been different, Loki might have been raised like that. If Voldemort had won... or if his birth parents' families had taken him to raise after his parents went to prison-- either way, he would be twisted and damaged in ways he didn't even recognize. He wouldn't know any of his friends, any of the people who were so important to him now, but he would hate them anyway, would believe they had no right to exist. Annie, George and Mitchell. Pippa and Dennis. Rogers. Professor Sprout and Mr. Longbottom, for teaching them and caring about them.

His mum and dad-- his _real_ ones, the ones who had taken him in and raised him and loved him now-- might have taken him to keep him from going evil like his-- like Felix and Catriona. They might have just thought it was a way to make the world a tiny bit better, making sure one little wizard didn’t grow up full of hate. Maybe they were being practical when they took him, and only got to love him later. 

But it was all right, Loki thought. Because they _did_ love him, now. And because trying to imagine how it would feel, to be so full of anger and hate that he couldn't even tell someone was good, or kind... to look at _Annie_ and not see anything except her Muggle mother and her squib father, to hate her and not see _her_ at all...

Loki had thought, before this, he was grateful for the chance his parents gave him when they took him in. Now he knew what the other way would have looked like. Now he really knew how much he had to be grateful for. 

Still holding Annie's hand and thinking very hard about how glad he was to have both the chance and the sense to be grateful, Loki kept trudging along through the woods with the others.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which there is mention of potentially deadly effects of a spell that is not usually fatal. I am assuming spells, like pharmaceuticals, have different effects in young children compared to adults.
> 
>  **Warnings:** As before, for the usual Potter-style child endangerment and whump.

"Do you really think this is the right direction?" George asked Stark, trying not to sound worried. He wasn't very successful, but he certainly wasn't any more frightened than anyone else. 

"Yes," Stark said, so quickly and so firmly that Loki knew he had to be lying. He pointed at a perfectly unremarkable pine. "I remember us passing that tree when we were on our way out. Come on, stay together."

The order wasn't necessary: Loki and his friends were sticking so close to Stark that they nearly trod on the hem of his winter cloak. Clint was walking with them by now: he seemed mostly recovered after their short rest, and Barney had shooed him ahead to join the Hufflepuffs. He and Thor were now bringing up the rear while Stark and Sinclair took the lead. 

The first-years were perfectly aware that this arrangement didn't really keep them any safer, but Loki certainly _felt_ a little more secure with the older members of the group surrounding himself and his friends. 

Clint, hiking along next to Mitchell, hadn't spoken since his brother sent him to join the other first-years. Loki was used to that from him, and he was slightly surprised when Clint suddenly spoke up:

"I'm sorry I got you into this mess," he mumbled. His glance over his shoulder included Barney in the apology, but he was talking to the Hufflepuffs, too. 

Mitchell shrugged and Loki certainly knew better than to speak to Clint, but George growled a little in response, and Clint sort of shrank into himself. Annie said quietly, 

"It really was pretty dumb of you both, but I guess you didn't know anyone wanted to kidnap you. Or, well, Thor and Loki, but they mistook you for Loki, didn't they?"

Clint nodded miserably. "Yeah. When they woke us up from the Imperius curse they told us about Thor's dad being the one who captured them, and…what they were going to do, to make him sorry."

"Sorry he hadn't just killed them, most likely," Mitchell muttered.

"Yeah, but I don't think they thought of it that way," Clint said. "I think they really thought he'd wish he'd left them loose and let Voldemort win, after they killed his sons."

"Being crazy will make you think like that," George said. 

"It was all my fault," Thor spoke up behind them, sounding even more wretched than Clint. "It was my idea to sneak off and practice flying. I'm sorry, everybody."

Stark glanced over his shoulder at Thor, opening his mouth to reply. 

They never found out what he was planning to say, because at just that moment the two Death Eaters came bursting out of the underbrush.

 _"Stupefy!"_ they shouted, almost as one, and bolts of red light shot from their wands, hitting both Stark and Sinclair and dropping them in their tracks. 

For a confused second Loki was both relieved and bewildered that the Death Eaters hadn't simply used a killing spell on the two. And then, as Thor and Barney scrambled to get between the first-years and the danger, he realized why the stunning spell had been chosen: if Stark and Sinclair were dead, there would be no reason for the other kids not to scatter into the woods, and that would make them harder to track down and catch. With two members of their group unconscious and helpless, the younger kids were pinned in place. Loki _wanted_ to duck into the woods and try to save himself, but he _couldn't_ leave Stark and Sinclair. It was as if his feet literally wouldn't let him run.

 _"Protego!"_ Thor shouted, throwing a shield charm between the huddled group and the next spell cast by the Death Eaters. Loki hadn't heard the incantation so he didn't know what spell bounced off the shielding charm, but he was sure it was something very bad. 

Felix laughed, and now he looked every bit as crazy and vicious as his wife. "Nicely cast, young Odinson! I'm sure your father will be very proud to know you tried to be a hero. Of course-- " he interrupted himself to cast a shielding charm of his own, as Barney tried to disarm him-- "by the time we're finished with you, you'll be whimpering for mercy, and he'll hear all about _that,_ too, just before we kill him. But only after we track down his other brat and finish him, too."

Catriona cast a stunning spell that Thor barely deflected. Loki was dimly aware of being grateful after all, for the illegal hex duels his brother and his friends played at: shield charms were quite advanced magic even for fourth year, and ordinarily Thor would only just be learning them. Catriona snarled, and Felix laughed again. 

"Wonderful! This does make it more fun!"

"Fun if you're a snivelling coward, you mean," Thor shouted back, which was a stupid, foolhardy thing to do. And then Loki realized Thor was trying to concentrate the Death Eaters' attention on himself, to protect the others as long as he could and maybe to give Barney a chance to think of something. 

Felix's smile went even more crazy at the edges. "Ah, yes. A true son of Odin. It really will be a pleasure to break you. Although perhaps we'll let you watch us finish your brother, after we've made you tell us where he is. Ten years old, you say. How many times do you think a boy of ten could endure the Cruciatus curse before it simply killed him? Perhaps we'll practice on these pups before we go looking for your brother. _Crucio!"_ he shouted unexpectedly, aiming his wand slightly to one side of Thor.

He was aiming at Clint, since Thor was obviously attached to Clint. Loki, right next to Clint, saw the Death Eater's wand come up and-- he didn’t even notice himself moving-- he shoved Clint as hard as he could just before the red blast emerged. 

And then he was on the ground, screaming and struggling as his whole body was engulfed in unimaginable pain. It was like being skinned alive at the same time you were being boiled in oil and torn limb from limb. He could hear himself shrieking, and maybe there were other noises around him, too, other people shouting, but Loki couldn't tell because all he was aware of was the torment he was feeling. 

And then it was gone, and Loki was lying on the ground, feeling it cold and wet against his cheek. He gulped, blinked, and was able to focus on a boot in front of his face, as if someone had stepped forward to protect him. 

Loki found himself able to move-- the Cruciatus curse just caused pain, not immobility, not once the pain passed off and you were able to command your limbs again-- and he tried to scrabble to his feet and find his wand. He couldn't quite control his limbs yet, and he fell. 

Dimly, he heard Catriona sneer, "Wrong brat," and Felix laughed. Loki rolled over to look at the Campbell-Hardwickes, and he could see the delight they took in hearing him scream. In that moment he knew for sure it would make no difference to them if they knew he was their son. He was on the wrong side. He was an obstacle. And these two wouldn't-- maybe couldn't-- maybe had never been able to-- see other people as real creatures who had a right to stay alive and not be hurt just because. They'd see him as a traitor to their way of thinking, and they'd use that terrible curse on him over and over until his heart couldn't stand the pain anymore and he just died of it. 

Catriona raised her wand, and in front of Loki a black shape collapsed. No, not _collapsed--_ Thor dropped to his knees in front of Loki because that posture put as much of himself in front of Loki as possible. He did it on purpose, even knowing what the Cruciatus curse felt like, trying to protect a younger child. 

The Hat had certainly put Thor in the right house.

Loki's hand closed on his wand and he pushed himself up so he was at least sitting upright. Catriona's wand came down, aiming at Loki and Thor, and Thor's was rising to cast another shielding charm--

\-- and Loki was fuzzily aware of a white shape above Catriona's head, descending soundless and soft, though remarkably fast, and he remembered stories about angels, wondered if they were true after all-- 

\-- and then Catriona stumbled forward with a cry of pain and rage, as she was violently struck in the back of the head by a barn owl. Solomon, Thor's owl, flapped away, turning to rejoin the combat, and that drew the Campbell-Hardwickes' attention away from the children for a critical few seconds. Catriona aimed her wand at the owl. 

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Thor yelled, and neither Death Eater was able to cast a shield in time. Catriona stumbled backwards, her wand flying out of her hand--

\-- to be snatched in midair by Bronwyn, dropping from above the treetops, as neatly as if they were just playing a game on the grounds of the castle. 

And, as she always did in their games, the mottled owl flew straight toward Loki with her prize. 

Felix, face distorted with rage, pointed his wand at her. He was so angry that he wasted a couple of seconds swearing instead of casting a curse that surely would have left Bronwyn a bundle of dead feathers in the snow. Loki screamed in terror, scrabbling to his feet to try to cast a spell, _any_ spell, to defend his pet. 

And then he tumbled back into the snow, shoved out of the way by Barney Barton, the older boy's face savage with anger. 

_"Crucio!"_ Barney screamed as he levelled the Unforgivable curse at the Death Eater. The bolt of red light that came from his wand wasn't anything like as strong as the practiced evil of the Death Eaters, but his rage fuelled it. Felix screamed as he fell to the ground. 

Barney wasn't finished. _"Crucio!"_ he howled again, as Felix staggered back to his feet and tried to point his wand. "That's for my parents! _Crucio!_ And for hurting my brother, and Thor and his brother! _Crucio!_ And, and for all those poor stupid Muggles who never did a _thing_ to hurt you!"

Loki hadn't thought it was possible for him to be any more scared, but Barney losing control like this and attacking the Campbell-Hardwickes as if he was a Death Eater himself was nearly the scariest thing that had happened yet. Clint's brother had gone crazy with fear, and anger, and all the pent-up hurt that had made him do so many mean things to so many other kids all his life.

And now he was face-to-face with the people responsible for his pain, the ones who had wrecked his life and his brother's, who were part of the group that had left them both orphans that nobody wanted. All the stories he had ever told himself, angry ones about payback and revenge, were bursting out of him, pressured by fear and the knowledge these two had every intention of killing them all if they could. 

Unforgivable curses were Unforgivable for a reason-- and of course there were dozens of spells meant to actually defend you, instead of just hurt your enemy like Cruciatus did-- but Loki thought maybe Barney could, in fact, be forgiven just this once. As long as someone could stop him, without Barney blindly turning the curse on them, too--

 _"Accio_ wand!" came a cry from somewhere to Loki's left, a woman's voice that somehow sounded familiar. Barney yelped as his wand flew from his hand, and he looked around with a snarl, to see who else was attacking them. As he did, a man's voice shouted, _"Stupefy!"_ and Felix dropped to the snow. 

Loki turned in time to see the tall figure of Mr. Longbottom running toward them across the snow, followed by the short, plump, unspeakably welcome one of Professor Sprout. Behind them loomed Hagrid. Bronwyn, who had landed in the snow beside Loki, took off to join Solomon in a low tree branch as the three teachers ran up to secure the two Death Eaters. 

Loki sat down hard in the snow. A moment later, Thor had dropped to his knees beside him, and Loki found himself wrapped up in his brother's arms. 

"You're okay," Thor said, his own voice shaking, into the top of Loki's head. "It's all right."

Loki got an arm free and around Thor, and held on hard. 

~oOo~

It was a long walk back to the castle. Mr. Longbottom removed the stunning spell from Stark and Sinclair but they both needed to hold onto someone to stay on their feet at first, let alone walk. Thor helped Stark, putting one arm around the older boy while continuing to hold onto Loki with his other hand. Hagrid helped Sinclair, and Professor Sprout and Mr. Longbottom used hover charms to transport the immobilized Death Eaters. Mr. Longbottom had to walk with one arm around Barney, who clutched Clint's hand and cried quietly the whole way back to the castle. 

They didn't encounter any more inhabitants of the Forest as they made their way back to the castle. That was probably on account of Hagrid's presence: maybe the creatures who belonged here trusted him to make sure the witches and wizards behaved themselves. Even without any delays, it was completely dark by the time they stepped out of the Forest. They finished the trek by wandlight, and when he finally saw the lights of the castle in front of him Loki thought he was going to burst into tears of relief. 

Professor Sprout ordered all of them to the hospital wing, and to make sure no one tried to disobey she escorted them herself, while Professor McGonagall and Mr. Longbottom took the two Death Eaters and Sinclair away. Mitchell protested, but calmed down when Professor Sprout promised him that Sinclair would get a chance to tell his side of the story. 

The last thing Loki remembered that night was sitting down on the edge of a bed in the hospital wing, and kicking off his boots. Then he lay down, still fully clothed, and after that there was nothing.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which we finally begin to get down to brass tacks. 
> 
> **Warnings** : None needed, for once.

The lamps were still burning when Loki opened his eyes, but gray light was starting to creep in through the windows. He was under the covers, wearing his pajamas, which was a surprise-- Loki had vague memories of being roused and prompted to change out of his heavy, wet clothes, but he had thought he was dreaming.

The infirmary was almost perfectly still. Short, movable screens separated the beds and gave the occupants a little privacy, but Loki could hear the quiet breathing of people asleep, and it was comforting. He felt nice and warm, although a bit crowded, which was peculiar since he knew from experience the infirmary beds were certainly large enough to fit him. 

And then he realized there was a single reason for both the crowding and the warmth: he was wrapped up in the arms of someone much bigger than he was. His first reaction was a brief, instinctive startle, and then the feeling of safety took over and he relaxed. 

The first reaction had been felt, though. 

"Loki?" Thor whispered. 

For a panicky second, Loki considered pretending he was still asleep, just so he wouldn't have to talk to Thor and maybe ruin everything again. He realized a moment later it wouldn't work. Thor knew he was awake. 

And besides he really didn't want to pretend. 

"Hi," Loki muttered foolishly. 

Thor tightened his arms a little. "Are you all right? That curse was… and then you fell asleep so fast-- "

Loki felt himself get hot all over. "I was just tired," he mumbled. "Anyway, they only used it on me once. Are you-- ?"

"I'm fine," Thor said. 

So far, this conversation wasn't exactly going places, but at least they weren't fighting yet. Loki hesitated, and then finally asked the obvious question: "Why are you-- ?"

Thor went tense, and for a moment Loki thought his brother wasn't going to answer, but after a moment he mumbled, 

"I couldn't sleep, and then I could hear you… it sounded like you were crying, or having a bad dream, and I thought… when you were small and you were having a bad dream, you used to calm down if Mum or Dad held you, so I thought I'd try it. It worked."

"I don't remember that," Loki said, meaning both the latest bad dream and the comfort. It was hard to imagine himself as a baby, and Dad holding him.

"You were pretty small then," Thor repeated quietly. He was still holding on, as if Loki might have another nightmare any minute-- or maybe Thor himself might-- and Loki went along with it. After a minute Thor said, into the back of Loki's head, "I'm sorry. For being such a terrible brother, I mean. I've been _awful_ to you." Loki wanted to protest, if only because Thor sounded so sad, but his brother didn't give him a chance. "I didn't really mean to be, I just… I... I don't know. I don't know what I thought… But when they, when they said they were going to… what they were going to do to you when they caught you... And then when they really _hurt you,_ I just…"

"I felt the same way," Loki said. "When they were hurting _you,_ I wanted to stop them... I didn't know what to do, but I _wanted_ to... and... thank you for, for protecting me from them."

"I didn't do a very good job," Thor muttered. 

"You did everything you could," Loki said, remembering. "You got in _front_ of me, even though you knew what, what that curse felt like. Thank you."

Thor patted him awkwardly. "Thanks for coming to look for me. Now, why don't you try to go back to sleep for a while."

"Okay," Loki agreed, and after a while, leaning back against his brother, he did. 

~oOo~

The infirmary was bright and sunny by the time Loki woke again, and he could hear people moving around. He sat up, pushing off the blankets, and rubbed his eyes. Thor had pulled a chair over to the foot of Loki's bed and was sitting there as if guarding his brother. He raised a hand and smiled a little when Loki sat up. 

"Good morning," Mitchell whispered, peering around the screen that separated their beds. Stark, who was pacing quietly around the room, looked over in relief as Loki whispered back. Loki wondered whether the head boy was hanging around just to make sure everyone woke safely. George and Annie, who was by herself on the far side of the infirmary, were just getting up, too. There was no sign of the Bartons.

Loki hadn't stopped to think about whether their parents might have been contacted and told about their adventure. The first clue he had that anybody outside Hogwarts knew came when a short gray-haired wizard, with a tidy moustache and dapper gray robes, came bursting through the door into the infirmary. 

"Dad!" Stark exclaimed, startled and maybe a little alarmed. His father didn't reply. Instead, he stormed across the room looking absolutely furious. Stark looked as though he was trying not to duck, and Loki thought if the younger kids hadn't been present, the head boy might have run for it. Thor stood up as if he was ready to defend Stark, which even Loki knew would be a stupid thing to do. 

With that said-- Loki was on his feet, too, in case Stark needed any more help, and Mitchell looked ready to intervene as well. To Loki's great relief, Professor Slughorn came through the door right behind Stark's father. Surely he wouldn't hit or hex his son in front of a teacher?

Honestly, though, he looked angry enough to do either. "You _stupid-- "_ Mr. Stark raged, as he reached his son. "What were you _thinking?"_

"Dad, I-- " Stark began, looking helpless-- and then his father had his arms wrapped around him, spluttering, 

"You could have been _killed,_ what would we have _done-- "_

Loki remembered what Stark had said that day last fall, about being his father's only son and heir, like that was the only reason for his dad not to give him another exploding broomstick to test.

Loki had a feeling Stark was probably wrong about that. 

For a few seconds Stark just stood there with his mouth open, and then he cautiously reached up and carefully patted his father on the back. Embarrassed, Loki looked away. 

Just as Rogers and Rhodes came in, each carrying stacks of folded clothing. 

"Odinson," said Rhodes. "And... Odinson. Get dressed and come with us."

Rogers smiled at Loki, who probably looked alarmed-- he certainly felt like it. 

"Madame Pomfrey says you're both fine to leave. Your parents just arrived, and they want to see you."

~oOo~

For just a second, when they walked into Professor Coulson's office, Loki thought their father was going to blow up exactly the way Stark's had. Dad's face was dark, his one blue eye flashed, and he sort of puffed up like an angry owl at the sight of the boys. It really wasn't like Dad to get uncontrollably angry, but he was scary enough when he was only stern. 

Loki hesitated in the doorway. Thor grabbed his hand, then both boys cringed as Dad opened his mouth. 

"Odin," said Mum, in a warning voice, and _"Clarence,"_ said someone else. Loki glanced over in relief to see Professor Sprout sitting in the chair at Professor Coulson's desk. 

Dad looked over, too, at both Mum and the professor, and his expression was embarrassed. Mum whisked past him and got an arm around each of her sons. Loki hugged her, hard, and then slipped under her arm to go hug Dad, too. Dad's big hand cradled the back of Loki's head and his arm was so tight around Loki it almost hurt.

"All right. I'll just leave you," said Professor Sprout quietly, and left the office. 

Mum cast another warning look at Dad as they all sat down together. There was a fireplace in the corner of the big office, with chairs grouped together in a friendly way. Loki had to suppress the urge to giggle as he imagined Professor Coulson in his border collie shape, curled up in one of the chairs before the fire. 

The giggle faded away as Mum turned to them, Thor in the chair right next to her and Loki beside Dad. Her face was terribly stern as she asked, 

"What happened?"

"It was all my fault," Thor said quickly. 

"Mine, too," Loki insisted, a hard, sharp-edged lump rising in his throat. 

"I didn't think... it was daylight," Thor explained, ignoring Loki's interruption. "I didn't think anyone would, would come in like that. I thought the wards on the castle would keep anybody out who didn't belong. And Clint, well, he's not as strong a flyer as he'd like to be, he wanted to go out for Quidditch next year but there's no way he'd be ready, so we-- my friends and I-- have been having extra practice with him. And yesterday I had the period free, and Clint didn't want to go to Herbology, so-- "

"Why didn't he want to go to Herbology?" Loki asked, although he had the nasty feeling he already knew the answer. 

Thor flushed. "He said he finds it... it's uncomfortable, being in classes with Hufflepuff, with everyone siding with Loki." He cast a complicated look at Loki, but before Loki could say anything Thor went on, "Anyway, he slipped away, and we went out to the flying ground, and..." He gulped. "And then... _they_ showed up and grabbed us."

It was pretty clear Thor wasn't eager to keep talking, and after a minute Mum turned to Loki. "And how did you get involved?"

Loki gulped. "We were going to class, Stark was walking with us, and he spotted Barney Barton-- " Loki went hot all over as he imagined telling about Barney spying, just the way Loki did, but then a thought came to him. He blurted, "What happened to Barney and Clint? Where are they?"

Mum glanced at Dad, who said, "The older boy had to be taken-- "

"Not to Azkaban," Loki said sharply, panic rising. "I know he, he shouldn't have used that curse, but he really didn't-- he didn't mean-- he was just-- please don't let them-- "

It took his parents a second to figure out what Loki was talking about, which wasn't surprising considering how incoherent his words were. Dad reached over and took his hand. 

"St. Mungo's," he said loudly, so Loki would have to hear him. "Not Azkaban." Loki took a quick breath and controlled himself. Dad looked at Mum, who explained, 

"I spoke with him before we came to find you-- Madame Pomfrey felt he was physically unhurt, but she was very concerned about his state of mind." Remembering Barney's hysterics, Loki gulped and nodded. His mother said gently, "I spoke to him for a while this morning, and I really think the best idea is for him to spend a few days at St. Mungo's. You remember my colleague, Madame Strout? She's done some very good work with witches and wizards who were... troubled, when they came back from the war. I think she can help him a great deal, and it seemed a good plan to have him stay at the hospital for a few days, so she can keep a close eye on him for now." Mum smiled reassuringly. "He's not going to be punished for using the Cruciatus curse-- he was too scared and angry to think clearly, and it's pretty clear he's been scared and angry for a very long time. But I think he'll be all right, Loki. He and his brother are the boys you sent the gifts to at Christmas, aren't they?"

"You didn't tell them, though, did you?" Loki asked anxiously. 

"No," Mum assured him. 

"That was from you?" Thor asked. "Clint told me someone had sent him a model of a Welsh green dragon-- he really liked it, and he wondered if it was from me." He frowned, puzzled. "Why did you do that?"

Loki wriggled. "I just thought... they might not get very many gifts." He had sent Barney a box of sweets, figuring that was a safe choice, but he'd wanted to give Clint something that felt like a real present. 

Thor gave him a very strange look. "He liked it a lot."

"That's good," Loki mumbled. 

"Barney is in good hands," Mum returned to the point. "He'll be back here as soon as Madame Strout thinks he's ready." She paused. "And I've been looking into the boys' living situation, to find ways to make things better for them away from school. I'm working on it. Try not to worry too much, sweetheart." 

"Okay," Loki whispered. Then-- and he wasn't stalling, really he wasn't-- he asked, "What about Mr. Sinclair? Is he-- "

"Now, _he_ is on his way back to Azkaban," Dad said. Loki looked up, ready to protest, and Dad raised a hand. "Not in the same transport as the two Death Eaters. Horace-- Professor Slughorn-- made a small amount of Veritaserum early in the term, after the school got word of the Death Eaters. He thought it wise to have some on hand in case it was needed, which it was. Sinclair was quite willing to take some, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was therefore able to verify his story of being brought along against his will."

Loki was aware of a feeling of relief at the knowledge Mitchell's loyalty hadn't been misplaced. Then he asked, "But if you know he told the truth about everything, why is he-- ?"

"He has seven months left to serve on his original sentence," Dad explained. "Under the circumstances there is no reason to think any time will be added, but he does need to serve out the rest of his existing sentence. Now," Dad went on, firmly, "tell us about how you ended up in the Forbidden Forest."

Loki swallowed-- he had been sort of hoping Dad would forget about that.

"Well," he said desperately, "Stark saw Barney watching Thor and Clint, only he didn't know that was what he was doing, and he went over to see, only he had to take us-- Hufflepuff-- because he couldn't leave us alone. So we all, all sneaked over to where Barney was-- " the corner of Mum's mouth twitched, just for a second-- "and then we saw Thor and Clint in the flying grounds, and Stark was just about to speak to them when, when the Campbell-Hardwickes came out of the Forest and cast the Imperius curse on them and, and made them go with them-- " Loki glanced from his mother to his father, hoping they weren't too confused by all the _thems_ in his speech.

"And Stark followed, taking you all with him?" Dad demanded. 

"No, nononono," Loki said hastily. "He told us to go get help. The Hufflepuffs. He told us to stay together and go find Professor Sprout and tell her what happened. But, but I-- "

"You followed him," Dad said sternly. Loki swallowed hard and nodded. Mum spoke up again, more gently. 

"You didn't want to leave your brother, did you?" she said, like it was obvious. Thor looked at Loki as if he hadn't ever stopped to think how Loki had ended up in the Forest in the first place. 

"I... I just couldn't..." Loki spluttered. "And anyway, he was, they were..."

"They were what?" Dad prompted, glancing at Mum as if to check whether he was using a calm enough tone of voice.

"I... I... " Loki stammered miserably, looking down at his hands so he didn't have to see everyone's eyes on him. "They were-- "

"They were what?" Mum prompted gently.

And this was the crisis. Loki looked vaguely down at his twisting hands, not really seeing them, and tried to decide what to do, what to say. Admit to spying, to listening at doors? Or miss his chance to actually _talk to them_ about, about everything, about who he was and where he came from?

_Mum reaching toward him, pulling him close as they sat together in the library._

_Dad smiling as the picture of Loki and his friends appeared in the developing potion._

There was no decision to be made. 

Voice high and tense in his own ears, still not looking up from his hands, Loki blurted, 

"They were my, my _responsibility._ They-- "

"Loki," Mum tried to interrupt him, "how can you possibly think you're _responsible_ for-- "

"Because," Loki said shrilly, "they're _my parents._ And you know it."

There was a harsh intake of breath-- from who, he couldn't tell-- and Loki finally looked up to see his entire family staring at him.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which we begin to untangle matters. My apologies if my timelines feel shaky, this is the busiest time of year at my work and I'm not up to taking apart all the details of the latter stages of the Second Wizarding War. Let's just say it's unlikely Odin would have been inside the Ministry by the last year or so. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Infamous Talking Chapter ahoy! And it won't be the last of them!

Mum recovered first. 

"Loki, what do you mean?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

Loki closed his eyes, heard his own high thin voice piping away in his ears. "I, I... I heard Dad talking. Last summer. To Mr. Shacklebolt. The day I went to, to buy my things for school. I came home, and I was going upstairs, and I _heard_ you." _(Sneak.)_ "I, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just... you were talking about the Campbell-Hardwickes, and he said, Mr. Shacklebolt said, _they're in Azkaban where they belong, but at least you were able to adopt the boy."_ He could hear Mr. Shacklebolt's deep quiet voice in his head. He would probably be able to hear it forever. 

Dad spoke up now. "And you've been worrying about this since last summer?" Loki opened his eyes, but he didn't look up from his hands as he nodded. 

A second later he was scooped up and flying in the air, to land, astonishingly, in Dad's lap. He was too surprised to do more than squeak, and then he was wrapped in Dad's arms, and Dad's chin was resting on the top of his head. It should have made him feel stupid and babyish, but instead he just felt safe. 

"All right," Dad said, and his voice came out as a funny kind of rumble, the way Loki's head was resting against his chest. "Tell us what you've been thinking about, all this time."

It hadn't occurred to Loki that he would say any more about this. He'd expected, after he made his statement, that he would, would... that he would just listen, while his parents talked and explained and _told him_ about everything-- what they had done, what he was supposed to feel about it. In spite of the way they had listened to him at Christmas, he still hadn't expected that anyone would ask _him_ to talk, to say things, to explain what _he_ had been thinking since that day last summer.

It was a frightening thought.

But it maybe wasn't quite so bad this way, leaning against Dad. Loki's eyes were closed again, the woven wool of Dad's robes scratching gently against his cheek and his words a little muffled as he spoke. 

"I just thought... you always do the right thing. You and Mum. Even if it's hard, or, or you don't want to. And, and I thought... after you arrested the Campbell-Hardwickes, you couldn't just send a baby to Azkaban no matter who their parents were, how bad their parents were, so I thought maybe you took me so you, so you could watch me. In case I went Dark. So you could see it happening and then, and then do something." The arms around him went tighter, and Loki found himself burrowing into his father's chest. 

"And I _was_ Dark, sometimes. I _am,_ even though I try not to be. I did, I did bad things, even though I mostly didn't mean to. I, I sent a lot of rocks flying at Thor and his friends, one day last summer, when they caught me spying on them and I got scared. I didn't mean to do that," he added urgently. "It just happened. I didn't do it on purpose. But I thought, I thought that meant I really would go Dark, because that was what my magic did when I didn't have control of it. And then I just worried about it, all summer, because I was afraid I might do something else Dark and not be able to help it, and, and I used to dream I was... that they took me to Azkaban and my, my parents were waiting for me and they told me I was just like them and... " He was starting to cry, breath hitching, but the words kept spilling out of him: "I thought I'd get to Hogwarts and they'd put me in Slytherin, and then I thought Slytherin wouldn't want me either, because I was, I was _evil,_ and nobody would _ever_ want me, or like me, and maybe the reason they never had before was because they could _tell."_

Dad was patting his back now, a bit awkwardly but with affection. It helped. Loki kept talking:

"But I got here, and the Hat-- I asked it to put me in Gryffindor, because I thought, maybe if it would do that, if I went in Gryffindor, maybe Thor would like me after all, and you would, you'd think I, I _mattered,_ that I belonged after all-- " It had been months since Loki had thought like that, but now he felt a sudden surge of memory, of his hopeless longing for Gryffindor. "I knew I didn't belong there, not really, I knew I wasn't brave or, or any of those things, but the Hat asked me what I _wanted,_ not houses but really really _wanted,_ and then it put me in Hufflepuff. And, and they like me in Hufflepuff, even when I got mad at Thor and told myself stories about hurting him and making him feel bad, too. Professor Sprout told me that everyone has to work to be good, so I thought... maybe I just had to work _harder_ than most people. Because of, of who my parents are. So I... I tried to, to do that, and then everyone... gave me another chance and, and they all started to like me again."

Mum spoke again, carefully. "Loki, do you still feel like you have to work harder than everyone else to be a good person? That there's something about you that will make you turn toward Darkness, even if you don't mean to?"

Loki started to give the obvious answer-- of course he did, because of course nothing had changed, he was still the secret child of Death Eaters. But then he really thought about the question, and about what he had learned from talking to Professor Sprout that time, and from everything that had happened since last summer. 

"N-no," he said, finally. "I don't think..." He thought some more about Mum's question, and then, hesitantly, he started trying to arrange his thoughts and put them into words:

"I, I think... I think it doesn't matter as much as I thought it did, at first. I mean... Annie, my friend Annie-- and George and Mitchell, too-- they're good because, because their parents are good people, and taught them to be good people. And maybe... maybe it's the _teaching_ that does it. Not, you know, the being born good part. I think you can _decide_ to be good, and… Because Mitchell's dad was a thief and a crook, and he has friends who ended up in Azkaban, but when really bad things started happening he decided to do the right thing. He did some bad things before then, but _he_ wasn't bad. 

"And then Barney-- Barney's mother and father were _heroes,_ and he was still, I mean, he really was pretty awful. Even when he was trying to protect us all, he was scary, like he couldn't think of any other way to act. And his parents _must_ have been good people." Loki thought about Thor, too, who could be so kind and also so nasty, but he didn't say so. He went on, "And... there must be kids here right now-- " _(Bruce?)_ \-- "whose parents were on the Dark side, but they're growing up with people who are teaching them to be good people, so they're, they're good too." That had to be true, because his friends were right, there had to be Death Eaters' children at Hogwarts even if Bruce wasn't one, and yet most kids at Hogwarts were quite nice. Certainly not _evil,_ anyway. 

Loki went on, "That time I talked to Professor Sprout, she told me when the wars were going on, there were a lot of, of really nasty kids in Slytherin, because their parents followed Voldemort and taught them to believe all the things they did. So those kids, they were bad because their parents taught them to be that way, but if their parents had taught them differently, they'd have been all right.

"So... I mean, I know I'm sneaky, and, and a crybaby, but I'm, I'm _not evil._ And, and I'm _not going to be._ I, I belong in Hufflepuff and I'm not evil, I'm _not._ And, and maybe you took me in the first place to make sure I _didn't_ turn Dark, but I know you _do_ love me, now." 

"Loki, we didn't-- " Dad began, and then fell silent as Mum spoke up: 

"We do love you. We always have, and we're glad you know it now." There was something painful in her voice as she asked, "What changed, so you know it now?"

Loki finally opened his eyes-- now that he'd said everything he needed to, he could look at his family again-- and explained, "Professor Sprout said she'd write to you, about… me. And when I came home for Christmas you… you acted like you wanted to change things. Like I… like I mattered to you. So I thought maybe I did all along, and you just didn't… show it before." The thought came to him: "Maybe you thought I already knew?"

"Yes," Mum said quietly. "We thought you… And we should have told you that you were adopted. We should have told you a long time ago." 

Loki leaned against Dad and thought about that. Maybe they should have. But… they hadn't known he was unhappy, and lonely, and felt like he didn't matter, all that time. If he'd known all those years that he wasn't even theirs (and hadn't that been his first thought?) he would have just assumed that was the reason they didn't care very much about him. His parents would have gone on thinking he understood things he didn't, and knew things he didn't, and he would have gone on pretending he was all right because he was afraid of what might happen if he admitted that he wasn't.

"I don't know," he said finally. "Maybe this is better."

"It's not better," Thor burst out suddenly. Loki had almost forgotten about Thor. He looked at his brother, whose eyes were blank and shiny even though his face was twisted in… not anger, exactly, but _something._

_Oh._ He'd forgotten, actually _forgotten,_ that Thor knew already. That Thor, for a little while at least, thought it meant they weren't brothers at all. 

"You should have told us both," Thor went on accusingly, and now tears were starting to spill out of his eyes. This made no sense, he knew-- Thor turned to Loki and said urgently, "If I had _known_ \-- if I knew it was _true,_ I never would have said… what I did. I know it was awful of me, but I never… I never _dreamed_ it was really true. I was just angry, and… and Volstagg was giving me a hard time about being nice to Clint and mean to you when _you_ were my little brother, and I just… said it."

"Said what, Thor?" Dad spoke up ominously. 

"It doesn't matter," Loki said quickly. "Not right now. Something we can talk about another time." Something was strange here, and they were going to have to get to the bottom of it, but for right now Loki wanted his parents to keep talking, to _tell him._ Whatever Thor said before, he had acted like Loki's brother when it mattered, and that was enough for now.

Thor opened his mouth-- and then he looked at Loki for a moment, and closed it. 

And then he asked, "Why didn't you tell us? Or, I mean, why didn't you at least tell Loki?"

Dad sighed. "Because, I suppose, we didn't know how."

"We knew we had to," Mum admitted. "And we had every intention... We wanted very badly to have children, your father and I. And for a long time we thought we never would. We were so thrilled when you were born, Thor. It almost seemed like a miracle. We knew there was very little chance of our having another child, but... Both of us had been only children, and we thought it would be lovely... " She smiled a little at the boys. 

"We wanted very much to adopt a second child," Dad spoke up now. "The problem, of course, is that the wizarding world is so small, and so close-knit. Before the second war, it was almost unheard-of for children to be in need of adoption: if something happened to the parents, there would always be family or friends to take the child in. So there seemed... very little chance for us."

"It would have been different if we were Muggles," Mum added. "It's a much larger world. You hear of children who need families, especially older children, and we would have been glad to... I actually thought about a Muggle child, you know. Talked about it to your father. It wouldn't have worked, of course, I knew that-- we made a great many mistakes with you boys, but even we could see the impossibility of bringing a non-magical child into our world and showing them things they could never truly participate in. Of making the child feel he wasn't part of either world. It's hard enough for squibs, we couldn't justify doing it on purpose. So... we had one child, and we were grateful for you, Thor, and we tried to accept the ideas there was no chance of a brother or sister for you.

"And then, Loki, there you were."

"After Dad... arrested my parents," Loki said softly. "After he stopped them, I... needed someone. And you decided that would be you. Is that what happened?"

"Not exactly," Dad said gently. "You have that part wrong. The Campbell-Hardwickes aren't your parents, Loki. They _killed_ your parents. Your parents were Muggles."

It took a moment for Loki to understand what he had just heard.

"They were _what?"_ he asked, his voice shrill and very far away. 

"Muggles," Mum repeated, looking at him carefully. It crossed Loki's mind that she was worried he was upset by this news. 

Nothing could have been farther from the truth. He actually felt weak all over-- with surprise, with relief, with the light-headed feeling that he must be dreaming. This felt like another of those wishes he used to have, stories he used to tell himself, a much-wanted something that couldn't possibly be true. Not that he had ever specifically _wished_ to be a Muggle-- except when he was very lonely at his primary school-- but if his other choice was to be related to murderous Death Eaters, there was no contest at all.

It seemed to Loki that, lately, more and more of his most deeply held wishes seemed to be coming true. 

"Muggles?" Loki repeated stupidly. "Like… George's mother and father? And the kids at my old school? And… and _the Beatles?"_

Mum and Dad, to say nothing of Thor, were looking at Loki as if he had lost his mind. Probably he had forgotten to tell them about the Beatles. Still, they did at least seem to realize he wasn't _upset_ about learning he was Muggle-born. 

"Wow," he said. "I'm... What happened?" 

"Well," Mum said, still looking closely at Loki. "The fact is... you know your friend Mitchell's father and I worked together, during the war." 

Loki nodded. "Yes. You helped Muggle-borns and their families get out of Britain into Ireland, until the Death Eaters nearly caught him and he had to take Mitchell and Mrs. Mitchell and escape."

"Exactly," Mum agreed, and then went on gently: "The family they were trying to rescue that time... it was yours." She shivered. "If you had been with them when the Campbell-Hardwickes attacked..." Loki looked at her out of wide eyes, and his mother explained, "You were just a baby when you showed that you had magic. When you were born, the situation was extremely dangerous. Nobody knew who they could trust after Voldemort's forces took the Ministry. Your father and I had layers of wards on our house so we could stay in London-- quite a few witches and wizards came to us at different times, for sanctuary-- but we still sent Thor to France with an old friend of mine." She looked grim. "It was a terrible time. 

"It was incredibly dangerous for Muggles whose babies were born with magic, of course, because they had no idea what was happening, or that there was anything to fear. They were completely defenseless. You know the Ministry can tell when magic is being used in a household, and if a single magic user suddenly appears somewhere, it usually means a child with magical abilities has been born into a Muggle family. Douglas Barton-- Clint and Barney are his sons-- had a network of loyalists who tried to track down those newborns before Voldemort's people could. St. Mungo's was still safe, mostly, so they would notify the hospital. We would get to the families and warn them, advise them to get out of the country.

"I was sent to visit your parents at their flat," Mum went on. "They were a lovely young couple, about the same age as Declan Mitchell and his wife. Your father was Irish-- you have his colouring, Loki, although I think you look more like your mother-- and I'm afraid he was rather distrustful of me, claimed not to believe my tales of _hocus pocus,_ although he knew there was... something... about you."

Loki swallowed. "He thought I was... " _(weird freak monster)_

"They both knew you were different from most Muggle babies. It began when you started teething-- that's not uncommon, if babies show their magic early it's normally when they're distressed. Thor showed his when he was a toddler, at tantrum age-- " she smiled at Thor, patted him-- "and you did when your teeth were bothering you, turning lights on and off and moving things around. Your parents were puzzled and a little frightened because they didn't understand it-- your mother told me they were thinking of asking their priest for advice, and I think she was relieved to have an explanation."

"But my... my father wasn't," Loki said, feeling a trickle of sour disappointment at displeasing his birth father. It was ridiculous, he had never known this father, but--

"Honestly, I think your father was mostly suspicious of me," Mum admitted. "I speak like a well-off lady who lives in a big house-- well, I _am_ a well-off lady who lives in a big house-- and I think that made it hard for him to trust me. I had to ask Declan to pay a second visit, with Moira and their little boy, to talk to them. Your father loved you, and I think he was afraid I was going to try to steal you, or something.

"And I could hardly blame him for that, since you really were one of the most beautiful babies I had ever seen. Your mother brought you to see me, and you were very taken with a jeweled clasp I wore on my cloak. You kept catching at it, and laughing. You were so beautiful, and I could tell your mother and father adored you.

"As I say, Declan and Moira paid a second visit, and they were able to convince your father to take our warnings seriously. But that wasted time."

"I really regretted the edict of secrecy in those days," Dad spoke up. "It was very hard to convince a lot of Muggle parents that magic was real, and they were in the midst of a war that was largely invisible to them. We wasted a lot of time, and people died because of it."

"Like my parents?" Loki asked. He should have said _birth parents,_ made it clear he knew whose son he was _now._ That much hadn't changed. 

Except of course it had, a little. Loki had already decided the Campbell-Hardwickes had no claim on him, but these Muggle parents were different. He had imagined what kind of person he would have been, if he had grown up as the Campbell-Hardwickes' son, and the idea disgusted and terrified him. His Muggle parents, though, had only wanted to bring up their son, and live their lives, and probably never hurt anybody.

"Like your parents," Dad agreed. He glanced at Mum and when she nodded, he went on, "I was no longer inside the Ministry, but I had my contacts, who tried to warn us of planned attacks on Muggles. Your mother-- Mummy-- arranged false papers for your, your family, for the Ahearns. Declan Mitchell was organizing their escape. But your mother-- "

"Tracy," Mum spoke up, glancing at Loki. "Her name was Tracy."

"Yes," Dad said. "Tracy wouldn't leave without her own parents, who lived near the New Forest. They were all the family either of them had. By then, we were quite sure the Death Eaters were onto them-- Voldemort was punishing Muggle-borns for 'stealing' magic, and that went for the parents, too, especially of young children. But they-- Tracy and Ned-- insisted. And, of course, given the actions of the Death Eaters at the time, it wasn't so far-fetched to believe they might also target the grandparents of Muggle-born wizard children, trying to wipe out the whole bloodline. Which made very little sense, considering practically all wizard families-- even most of the so-called _purebloods_ \-- have Muggle ancestors _somewhere,_ but no one ever accused Voldemort and his party of reasonable thinking."

"We knew it was a risk, but they were willing to take it," Mum picked up the story. "They weren't so willing to risk _you._ And, of course, your magic, if you cast it, would be a way for the Death Eaters to track you. So we all decided together that it was safest for them to leave you behind, somewhere safe, while they went to fetch Tracy's parents. The safest place I could think of was the children's ward in St. Mungo's. Where better to hide a magical child, than among a lot of other magical children? So I took you to St. Mungo's, while they made their journey. 

"Your grandparents, naturally, took as much convincing as your parents had, and that wasted time. Declan was afraid of the delay, and of the possibility the Ahearns' change in routine would draw attention from the Death Eaters. By that time, _any_ unusual travel was treated with suspicion by Voldemort's forces, because quite a lot of Muggle-borns and their families had already escaped the country. It was no longer enough for them to simply go, it wasn't safe to travel openly, and of course most Muggles had no idea even what to be wary of. At first Declan would simply brief them on ways to avoid notice. Later he would escort them to safety, part of a network of travelers who knew how to get Muggles and Muggle-borns past the Snatchers and Death Eaters. 

"I was to bring you to the Mitchells', where several Muggle families were gathering to make the trip with Declan. As clever as he and Moira were, we suspected their movements were beginning to be watched, and we all knew this couldn't go on much longer.

"I was with you at the hospital, waiting for word your parents had arrived at the Mitchells'. Instead, Moira's face suddenly appeared in the fireplace of my office, telling me they had been discovered and that I was not to come. Of course, your father-- Dad-- and Professor Fury went to the house as soon as I could get word to them, but it was too late. The Mitchells had fled with the surviving Muggles, although we didn't know that until later-- there wasn't much left of their house, or the ones on either side, and I thought at first they must have perished inside. 

"Your parents and grandparents were walking up to the door when the Campbell-Hardwickes arrived. It was very quick," Mum said gently. 

"The cover story was a gas explosion," Dad went on. "Nick Fury and Phil Coulson and I went to work to track down the killers-- I have no idea why Coulson chose a border collie as his animal form, when he's such a bloodhound on the trail. I caught up to the Campbell-Hardwickes myself." He smiled grimly. "I think they expected me to offer them a fair fight, as if not being Dark meant I was soft or stupid as well. I took great pleasure in delivering those two to Azkaban."

"And in the meantime," Mum said, "there you were, still at St. Mungo's, waiting for your mother and father to come for you." She wiped quickly at her eyes with the side of her hand. "We went to the Muggle authorities to see if you had other relatives anywhere, anyone who would have been notified of your parents' deaths, who would be worrying about and wanting you. Your parents had said there was no one aside from your grandparents, and sure enough there wasn't. I had gotten to love you, while you were in hospital and I was the person who felt most responsible for you, so of course we wanted to adopt you." 

Dad spoke up. "It took a while for that to be formalized, but in the meantime we wanted you, no one else had a better claim on you, and there were levels of Muggle government who knew enough about our war to allow us to take you to France, for safety, with Thor. When the war ended and we brought you home, we were finally able to adopt you legally." He sighed. "And then, we just didn't know how to tell you all this. How much we should tell you, or when-- how old you should be, how much it would upset you. We actually decided... after you were home at Christmas, Mum and I decided to tell you this summer. You seemed so much happier, more sure of yourself. We thought you'd be old enough to hear what happened to your parents without being as... troubled by it as you would have been a few years ago.

"We never dreamed that you already knew we adopted you. And we didn't dream for a second that you thought your parents were _that_ pair of maniacs. I'm so sorry, Loki."

Dad's arms tightened around him. Loki leaned against his father, and after a moment his mother reached out to take his hand. She put her other arm around Thor, who leaned gratefully against her. 

And they sat together quietly for a little while.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Notes:** In which some other matters are brought out into the open. I'm sorry this chapter took so long again, and I apologize for a particular kind of closure some readers wanted that we haven't gotten yet. I may be getting soft. _
> 
> _**Warnings:** None needed_.

After a while, Loki slipped self-consciously off his father's lap, and sat in the chair beside him again. Dad put his arm around Loki, while Mum ran her fingers gently through Thor's hair, the way she had Loki's at Christmas. It was nice-- reassuring-- all of them, even Thor, sitting together quietly. 

After a few minutes, though, Loki thought of something.

"Did I…" He hesitated, suddenly nervous again under his parents' eyes. 

"Did you what, Loki?" Dad asked, his voice strangely gentle, for Dad. It was as different as possible from the night last summer when Loki had stood hesitantly in the doorway of his father's study, and Dad had snapped _"What if they what, Loki?"_ at him. 

"Did I have a name?" he blurted. 

Dad just looked confused, but-- 

"Michael," Mum spoke up, understanding immediately. "Your name was Michael Francis Ahearne." She smiled wistfully at him. "It was such a lovely name. And it would have been very conspicuous in our family-- especially before the war ended, when we were only pretending you were ours-- so we gave you a name that matched, to help you hide with us." Now it was her turn to look hesitant, and Dad's to lower his gaze. "We believed it was the right thing to do." 

Loki chewed on his lip as he thought. Thought about Michael Francis Ahearne, who grew up in a flat, whose dad was Irish, who had grandparents.

Who had no older brother, and a mother and father Loki couldn't quite picture. Nothing about Michael, or his life, or his family seemed very real to Loki just now. He could think about Michael, and the life he and his family might have led, but he had very little sense of Michael and Loki being the same person. He felt really sorry about the family that had died at the hands of Death Eaters, for the baby left behind alone at St Mungo's… but the more he thought about it, the less it felt like _him._

"It was," Loki assured his mother. "It was… " Something else occurred to him. "Dad, you told Mr. Shacklebolt that you and Mum worry about me." His stomach twisted again in anxiety as he spoke. Or maybe it was hunger-- he had no idea of the time, but he was beginning to wish it could be time for breakfast. 

It occurred to Loki that, not very long ago, a conversation like the one they'd just had would have left him too sick with anxiety to even think of meals. Surely that was a good sign.

Dad patted him, a little awkwardly. "You seem to remember more about that day than I do. I don't recall saying that."

Loki remembered every word. "You were talking about, about some new legislation some purebloods wanted. To protect their interests. And you got angry thinking about it, about purebloods thinking they deserved more rights, and about what that led to, in the wars. That's when you brought up the Campbell-Hardwickes, and Mr. Shacklebolt mentioned you adopting me. He asked how I was, and you, you said you worried about me. You and Mum. I thought… I thought you meant…" 

"Oh," Dad said, nodding. "Well, I can certainly tell you what I meant by that, because it's something your mother and I have talked about, off and on, for all your life. We're not worried about you, Loki. I mean, we don't worry that you'll turn bad as you get older, or start making foolish choices or doing ugly things. We worry about you in the same ways we worry about Thor, of course, or any parent worries about their children, wanting them to grow up safe and happy and satisfied with life. We don't worry there's something _wrong_ with you, if that's what you're afraid of." 

Loki nodded, swallowing hard, and Dad patted his head, ruffling his hair a little. "What we do worry about, and we always have, is how little we know about the Muggle world. We worry about the kind of things you're missing out on, with us for parents. There are so many things your friends with Muggle families know about the world beyond ours, so many places they fit into that we who were raised solely in our world simply can't." Dad made a helpless gesture. "For instance, I have no idea at all why these beetles you spoke of are so important to Muggles. We're sorry for the things you should have known about, and experienced, growing up around Muggles as well as witches and wizards."

Something clicked together in Loki's mind. "Is that why you sent me-- us, both of us-- to Muggle school, instead of arranging for us to learn at home the way most kids do?" 

Mum and Dad's jobs meant they couldn't teach her sons at home themselves, but lots of witches and wizards in that situation made arrangements. Loki had always known it was unusual, for wizard children who weren't Muggle-born to go to Muggle school. Annie, George and Mitchell had gone, too, but the Sawyers and the Mitchells lived closely with Muggles, and their parents knew they had each other at school. None of his other wizard-born classmates had gone to school with Muggle kids. Loki had always assumed his parents' decision to send him was part and parcel of their disdain for the kind of pureblood prejudice Dad had talked about to Mr. Shacklebolt. 

"Yes," Mum said. "Although obviously we didn't think it through properly-- we certainly didn't mean to isolate you the way we did. The idea was to make sure both of you grew up feeling as comfortable in the Muggle world as we could manage. Loki, we hoped you would learn things from those teachers and students that you would have learned from your real parents-- "

_"Birth_ parents," Loki interrupted. His mother looked startled, whether by Loki's rudeness in speaking over her or by his words. Blushing, he insisted, "That's what Muggles call it, when someone who's adopted talks about their other parents. They have two sets of parents, and both sets are _real parents."_

Well, unless one set was evil and violent and the child had to disown them, but luckily that wasn't the case for Loki. And the looks on his parents' faces now made Loki very glad he had spoken up. 

"And it did work," Loki added, so his mother wouldn't start to look sad again. "I mean, I got along with the other kids when we were at school, and, and I know some things about Muggle history, and stories, and things like that. Thor, too, don't you, Thor?" 

"Sure," Thor said, looking startled and uneasy as the attention turned to him. "It was interesting, learning about things that are important to Muggles."

"Interesting, but lonely," Mum prompted gently. 

Thor squirmed. "At first. And then I met Sif and Volstagg and everyone, so I had someone to be with outside school, and then I was all right."

"Yes," Mum said, and now she did look sad. "That was lucky for you, since your father and I assumed all you boys needed was each other." 

"Yes," Thor said quietly. He glanced at Loki, then looked down at the floor as if he was ashamed. "It wasn't so lucky for Loki." 

"No," Dad agreed. 

Loki chewed on his lip for a few seconds, trying to stop himself from speaking again. But… as long as they were talking, as long as questions were being answered…

"Thor, _why?"_ he asked, and hated himself for the plaintive sound that came from his mouth. "I know… I know you didn't want to be friends with me. And I, I understand that you were angry when I wouldn't let you alone. But I _did._ I _have been._ Ever since I found out about-- since I started trying to, to be good. I left you alone on your birthday, I didn't pester you at school-- at least, not very much, except for that one time at Quidditch… well, I did try to ask you what was wrong when we came back after Christmas, but that was because I thought maybe, maybe _you_ thought that _I_ didn't want to be friends anymore-- "

"You had teachers there," Thor burst out, and his resentment sounded like he'd been cherishing it. "You didn't just come to me."

"Professor Sprout asked me to promise," Loki reminded his brother. And then the truth just slipped out: "And anyway, I was afraid of you."

There was a ringing silence, Loki for a moment too horrified at his own words to speak. And then he found his tongue again. It was as if all his lies had deserted him at once. 

"You hate me, and I don't know why, and I'm scared of you. I wish we could be friends, and I guess-- I mean, I _know_ \-- I was selfish, trying to _make_ you let me go around with you and your friends, because it wasn't _your_ fault that I didn't have anyone to, to be… but I thought you'd be glad when I left you alone, and maybe you wouldn't be so angry at me all the time. And it seemed like I only made things worse, when I made some friends of my own and didn't pester you as much, but you didn't like it when I tried to be around you either so I didn't know _what_ to do, how to make things better, and I don't know what you _want_ from me and it scares me. I don't want to make you angry enough to… "

Very fortunately, Loki managed to shut himself up before he gave anything else away. He clasped his hands together and looked down at them while he waited for someone else to say something. 

"Angry enough to what, Loki?" Dad asked quietly. Loki squeezed his hands tighter and didn't answer. "Thor?" Thor didn't say anything, either. Maybe he didn't even know what Loki was talking about. Maybe he didn't even remember. "Loki," Dad pressed, "you said something about throwing rocks at Thor? When did that happen?"

Loki kept looking down at his hands, hoping his father would relent. The silence stretched out. 

Finally, Thor mumbled, "It was one day last summer. My friends and I were…" Thor took a breath and blurted, "We were playing at hexing each other. I know we aren't supposed to, but there aren't any Muggles at Elder Cross, and… "

"And that's why he knew how to cast a shielding charm when the Campbell-Hardwickes attacked us," Loki tried to speak up for his brother. Nobody looked at him. Instead, Thor said quietly, 

"Anyway, Loki was hiding, watching us, and we caught him. He said he was going to tell on us and I, I lost my temper and… I kind of shook him by the throat. And then a whole lot of rocks came flying at us. I let go of him and he ran away." Thor looked from Mum to Dad, pleading. "I didn't mean to hurt him. Or to scare him that much. I just, I just wanted him to leave us alone."

"I'm sorry," Loki muttered to his hands. "It didn't… didn't really hurt me. I just… "

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Thor repeated, voice wobbling. "Not really, I mean. It was like my hands just did it. I was angry, and I wasn't thinking… I wasn't thinking about whether _you_ felt anything at all." He sucked in a breath and went on, speaking very rapidly, face scarlet, "It was like when I told my friends... I didn't think about saying it. I just did. I just… I was only trying to make Volstagg stop nagging me about you and Clint. We all knew we should be kind to Clint, because Clint's in our house and his brother is, his brother is pretty awful to him." Thor hesitated, maybe thinking about brothers, his face going even redder. "But then Volstagg started feeling guilty-- that time at the Quidditch pitch, when we accused you of spying again and we both got into trouble, he felt really bad about that, even before his mother wrote to tell him she was disappointed in him. And Volstagg started, started telling me I should be kinder to you, too, and I knew he was right and it just made me feel worse and I finally, I just wanted him to stop, I finally said… that."

"Said what, Thor?" Dad asked, in an awful voice. Loki resisted the impulse to put his hands over his ears. 

Thor made himself meet Dad's eyes. "I said Loki was adopted, that he wasn't my brother at all."

"Oh, _Thor,"_ Mum said, and Thor crumpled under the angry disappointment in her tone.

Thor went on, voice reedy with tension. "I just wanted… Volstagg wouldn't leave me alone. I just wanted to _stop_ him. I never thought for a second it was _true._ And, and I didn't expect Sif and Fandral to go around _telling_ people, either. I just… it was something to say because I was angry, and I didn't think it would go any farther. I didn't expect Clint to tell the other first-years, or-- "

"Clint was there when you said it?" Loki asked, remembering that Jane said Clint had been told by Thor. Or maybe she just thought he had been directly told, because he was spreading the rumour.

Thor shook his head, miserable. "Just, just my friends and me. I didn't expect them to talk about it, especially not to him. I guess I thought I could just, just let off steam, and then later I could tell them I hadn't meant it, and it wouldn't matter. I didn't think… I didn't think at all, really." 

Loki twisted his hands together again. "I thought you had overheard me confiding in my friends." Conscious of his family looking at him, Loki explained, "The day they visited at Christmas, I told them everything. Everything I knew, and everything I, I believed. We were playing in the upstairs reception room and, and I just wanted… I wanted to tell someone, and I didn't know how to talk to any of you about it, and… and they're my friends, they even came looking for me that day after the Quidditch practice, when I was upset and I went to the dormitory to hide, and I knew if we were really friends I should prove it by trusting them about something important, so I told them."

"You told them what you believed about the Campbell-Hardwickes, too?" Mum asked. 

Loki nodded. "And they, they still wanted to be friends with me," he said, surprised once again at the knowledge. 

"Of course they do," Mum agreed, and then she turned to Thor. "What did you do, when you realized your friends were repeating to the other students that Loki wasn't your brother?"

"Nothing," Thor whispered. And then he added quickly, "Hogun didn't tell anyone. And neither did Volstagg. Volstagg got really angry at me when he realized what was happening-- at all of us, actually. He kept saying it was a rotten thing to do, and adopted was still brothers, and I should go to Loki and apologize. And I got angry, too, and besides, I didn't know how to tell everyone I was lying in the first place, and… it was bad enough in Gryffindor, let alone admitting it the whole school."

"What do you mean, 'bad enough in Gryffindor'?" Dad asked sternly. 

"Just about everyone in Gryffindor agreed with Volstagg," Thor mumbled. "They thought I was wrong, and… being cruel. They were waiting for me to admit I was wrong and say I was sorry."

"That's some relief," Dad said coldly. "What about Professor Coulson? What did he have to say?"

Thor shook his head. "He doesn't know. The teachers don't. Loki got, got hexed and everyone was thinking about the escapees again, and the business about Loki being adopted sort of died out, at least for a while. I didn't know, Loki, honestly. I never would have said it if I'd known."

"We can talk about that later," Dad decided, and Loki hoped he would be excused from that particular discussion. Dad went on, "In the meantime, I'd like to know… " He hesitated, looked at Mum, and then said, "I'd like to know _why._ This is more than just wanting your little brother to stop pestering you. You don't seem to know _what_ you want from him-- no matter what he does, it seems to make you angry. It's not fair to Loki, obviously, but it isn't good for you, either. What's _wrong,_ Thor?"

"Wrong with me, you mean," Thor mumbled. 

"Maybe," Dad agreed remorselessly. 

Thor wrapped his arms around himself. "I don't…" He stopped himself in mid-protest, chewed his lower lip, and finally looked at Loki and said softly, "It's not you, Loki. Not really. It's just…" Thor looked down at the floor, chewing on his lower lip. Dad started to open his mouth, but Mum shook her head quickly before he could speak, so he didn’t interrupt. 

Thor didn't seem to notice. "It's just… it's always felt like, like… they _like_ you better than me. Mum and Dad. Everyone. I just, I wanted something to myself."

"Wha-a-- ?" Loki heard himself protest stupidly. How could Thor possibly _think_ a thing like that? Thor was the one _everybody_ paid attention to. Thor looked at him, and his expression for a moment made Loki shrink in his chair. Then Thor just looked sad and rather desperate.

Mum had stopped Dad from interrupting, but now she spoke up herself: 

"What makes you believe we feel that way, Thor?"

"You… you _sent me away,"_ Thor blurted. "I was, I just wanted, I missed you and Dad and I wanted to go home. I was scared, everything was scary, Auntie Cecile and Uncle Gustav kept talking, when I was supposed to be asleep, about people dying and you being in danger, and… And you didn't come and I thought you had _died_ and then when you did you had _him_ and, and I wanted you to bring me home but you _left me,_ and then they spent all their time with _him,_ like _he_ was the only one who mattered-- " Thor looked shocked, as if he hadn't realized what he was thinking until he heard the words coming out of his mouth. Desperately, he tried to backtrack: "I mean, I know he was only a baby. I, I do. I'm sorry-- "

"But you weren't much more than a baby, either," Mum said, rubbing her forehead. "We thought you understood-- "

Loki could feel Dad going tense beside him, but he didn't look up at his father. All he could think was, Thor really _did_ hate him, and who could blame him, Loki had ruined everything, and--

"Loki, I'm sorry," Thor blurted. "I, I never thought… I didn't, didn't know I remembered all that. It doesn't matter anyway. I was just… selfish, and… and I'm sorry."

Thor was crying, and Loki was crying, and all of a sudden he had slipped out of his chair and thrown his arms around his older brother. Thor hugged him back, sobbing. Loki was aware of their parents moving closer-- and then there were arms around both of them, holding them both together, and Loki relaxed and just let them.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** This chapter was strangely hard to spit out, even though nothing shattering happens. Perhaps that's  why it was a little difficult to get a handle on, actually. 
> 
> **Warnings:** None needed.

By the time the family had all calmed down, Loki was embarrassed to admit he really was very hungry-- after all, it was probably closer to lunchtime than breakfast by now. Fortunately someone-- maybe Professor Sprout-- had apparently let the house elves know the people in Professor Coulson's office would be wanting breakfast. However the elves knew about it, when the family were finished talking there was a knock on the door. A moment later several house elves entered, carrying trays loaded with covered serving dishes and plates. 

Loki busied himself with eggs and bacon and toast and jam, staying in the background while his father and mother and brother talked. He felt a little guilty about getting to eat more than anyone else, but not guilty enough to stop and wait for them to catch up. And he left lots for everyone else, honestly. 

Besides, concentrating on his breakfast made it easier to pretend he couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. Having said all he wanted, and heard all he needed, Loki was quite ready to keep quiet and turn it all over in his mind, while his brother and their parents said everything _they_ still needed to. He felt guilty about not realizing how sad and, and depressed Thor was, underneath the boisterous friendliness and bossy ways. 

It occurred to Loki that if _he_ felt bad about that realization, their parents must feel even worse. They hadn't wanted Loki to feel lonely and sad; they certainly didn't want Thor feeling that way either. And they probably felt terrible about not seeing it until they were told in so many words by Thor. 

Thor, who was now sitting with his shoulders hunched-- Loki knew very well what that posture felt like from the inside-- looking down at a plate of cold breakfast while their parents talked to him about what sort of punishment his actions had earned. 

It seemed unfair to Loki, really, that Thor should be punished on top of everything else. Hadn't he been kidnapped, and tried to protect Clint and Loki, and admitted he had done wrong? But Thor didn't seem to feel the way Loki did: he acted almost relieved at the idea. In fact, he spoke up right away with a suggestion:

"I... I think I shouldn't play Quidditch this term." That was as big a sacrifice as Loki could imagine, but his brother didn't falter. "And, and you should take my broomstick home with you, when you go. I was letting Sif use it to play Seeker, but, but I don't think she should... "

Loki paused in the act of dipping a toast soldier into his egg yolk and protested, "You can't-- that would punish _Gryffindor,_ too. They'll _all_ be-- " They would all be angry at Loki, it would be _his fault,_ and, and...

"That sounds reasonable," Dad said, ignoring Loki's protest. No, not ignoring it, because he turned to Loki immediately and told him, "This is how the house system works, Loki. You know that. When you do something to be proud of, your house benefits as well as yourself. And when your actions reflect badly on your house, that is also reflected in loss of points or standing. I am quite sure Professor Coulson will be able to make the rest of the house understand that cruelty-- " Thor winced-- "toward a younger student just can't be tolerated. If the other Gryffindors don't understand that, well, the house isn't what I remember."

"Maybe he could just, just miss the next game?" Loki offered, glancing nervously at Thor. 

"No," Thor said quietly. "I deserve to... I'm really, really sorry, Loki. Even when I was being mean to you, I was sorry-- well, at least part of the time. It was just that I'd get angry again, and then I'd forget-- "

_And suppose he got angry and forgot, again?_ Loki bit his lip and tried not to think about the possibility. 

Mum looked quickly from Thor to Loki, and back to Thor. "Sweetheart," she said, and Loki was surprised to see Thor relax a tiny bit at the endearment-- _Had Thor believed they wouldn't love him anymore, either, after he confessed to everything?_ \-- "I think you-- all of us-- should... There are things we can't help ourselves with, and we don't have to face them alone. That's why there are healers."

"What do you mean?" Thor asked, in a small voice. 

"I mean that one of my colleagues at St. Mungo's is trained in dealing with injuries that can't be seen, that aren't caused by magic or physical harm. Injuries in the mind and in the heart. All of us need... we need to learn how to be together as a family. Your father and I thought we already knew, but-- "

"-- But then I ruined everything," Thor said thickly, which was so much what Loki had always thought, himself, that he could only stare at his big brother in surprise. 

Mum leaned over and hugged him. "No, Thor. You made mistakes, and yes, you also did some cruel things deliberately, but it's not all your fault. Or yours, Loki," she added, looking at Loki over Thor's head. Dad reached out and put an arm around Loki, too, which was comforting. "Or your father's and mine either, perhaps, although if anyone deserves to be blamed or to feel guilty about how everything has turned out, it's the two of us." She paused. "There's something else I feel terrible about." Mum's lips trembled a little, and her eyes looked wet as she said, "Your father and I worried a great deal about you coming to school, Loki. We talked about how we thought you would manage when you were forced to be around other children all the time, whether you would hate it and be unhappy and find it hard to cope with. We planned to make you try until Christmas, but we thought we'd look for tutors, just in case you found everything too stressful and had to be taken out."

Loki stared at his mother, mouth dropping open in horror. Suppose they really had done that? Suppose he had been brought home and forced to be all alone, always, just like a prisoner who had earned the extra punishment of solitary confinement?

Mum looked at his expression and reached over to touch his cheek. "It wasn't supposed to be punishment, we just thought you preferred... and we planned, when we learned what house you were in, to write to your head and explain about you. What we thought we knew about you. Although that outburst the night before you left-- " Loki ducked his head and cringed in shame-- "when you said you wanted a pet just so you could have _one_ friend... well, even as stupid as we'd been all along, it was very hard then for your father and me to keep believing we had ever understood you as well as we believed.

"And then, a few days into the term, we got the nicest letter from Professor Sprout, saying you had been Sorted into Hufflepuff, and how pleased she was to have you, and how happily you seemed to be settling in. And that we weren't to worry, because your three friends were in Hufflepuff with you, and she knew we'd be happy that you were all together and it would help all four of you adjust to being away at school. 

"It was hard enough to send our baby so far away," Mum said, her mouth twisting, "but to find out the first thing you did when you got away from us was to make friends we didn't even have the sense to know you _wanted,_ and that so quickly and firmly that Pomona thought you must have known them all your life-- We knew then that we didn't understand you, Loki. Or know much about you. If we'd had any brains, we would have realized that could mean we didn't know Thor as well as we'd thought, either, but we didn't. And so, here we are." 

"Here we are," Thor mumbled. 

"Yes," Dad said, and it was very strange to hear Dad sound so unsure of himself. He rubbed Loki's back and then reached over to lay a hand on Thor's shoulder, looking like he was trying to comfort himself as much as his sons. Loki reached over and took Dad's hand. Dad smiled at him. "But we don't have to stay here."

"Right," Mum agreed, and ruffled Thor's hair. 

~oOo~

Loki expected, after breakfast, to be sent back to join his classmates. In fact, he was beginning to feel a little anxious, both about missing classwork and whether his friends might be worrying about him. However, after the breakfast dishes and things were removed, Professor Coulson and Professor Sprout came back to speak to the family. 

Loki suddenly remembered he hadn't even thanked Professor Sprout for arriving in the nick of time to rescue everyone. 

"I'm just grateful we weren't too late," Professor Sprout replied, gently brushing his thanks aside. "And glad I was able to catch up with Mr. Longbottom after I took the rest of your classmates back to the castle. I should probably deduct fifty house points from every one of you for doing something so foolishly dangerous." Loki bit back his protest, because of course she was right, at least as far as the rules were concerned. He just couldn't imagine doing _nothing_ when his brother was in danger. 

And Professor Sprout knew it, because she smiled tiredly and went on, "I will, of course, do nothing of the sort: your hearts were in the right place, and if Mr. Stark _hadn't_ taken immediate action, it's quite possible Mr. Longbottom and I wouldn't have arrived in time to rescue anyone. And he is quite insistent that he couldn't have done as much as he did, without help from you first-years. I'm certainly not going to _award_ house points for your actions, but under the circumstances I think punishment would be unjust. So-- and I have already told your friends this-- I think there is nothing more to be said on this front." Loki nodded meekly.

Professor Coulson folded his arms as he looked at Thor. "You and Clint Barton, on the other hand-- "

Thor also nodded meekly. "I'm sorry," he muttered. Professor Coulson raised one eyebrow and waited. Thor stumbled on, "I, I didn't mean to put everyone in danger. It was stupid of me, and, and I deserve to get punished for what I did. But Clint doesn't, really. He just, he followed my lead because he was... " Thor flushed deep red and said haltingly, "He missed his brother, and I was, I was kind of... It wasn't the same, but it was something. And he shouldn't, shouldn't be-- "

Professor Coulson looked at Thor with his head on one side, and when he spoke his voice was stern. "How about you let me decide what I should do, all right?" It didn't seem possible Thor could blush any redder, but he did. 

Professor Coulson glanced at Professor Sprout, who nodded. Then she turned to Loki. 

"Professor Coulson and I need to speak to your parents and brother for a while, but I think it's time for you to return to your friends. All right?" 

It took Loki a moment to realize she was actually asking him a question, and would probably pay attention to his answer. He felt a little torn between not wanting to say goodbye to his parents just yet, and wanting to get back to the safety of the Hufflepuff common room. 

"We'll come see you again before we leave," Mum promised, and Loki nodded in relief. He hugged her, then Dad, and then-- to Thor's surprise-- his brother. Professor Sprout walked him to the door of the office. 

Waiting outside were Annie, Mitchell, and George, with Becky hovering just behind them. 

"Hi," Loki spluttered, surprised. "How did you know I'd be leaving now?"

Becky looked long-suffering, and Annie explained, a little sheepishly, "We didn't. We've, we've been waiting around for you since classes ended at lunchtime." 

"Oh," Loki replied. "Well, thank you-- " He broke off in a startled squeak when Annie made a pouncing motion at him that ended in a big hug. He instinctively hugged her back, then both of them let go and scuttled backward a pace, blushing furiously. Loki turned to George-- also blushing-- and Mitchell-- obviously trying not to burst out laughing-- and asked, "Um, did your parents come check on you, too?" It occurred to him for the first time that, George's parents being Muggles and Annie's a Muggle and a squib, that might be a problem.

"Yes," George confirmed. "Mitchell's parents brought mine to Hogsmeade with them-- something called side-along Apparition?" Loki nodded, hoping the Mitchells had warned them about how unpleasant the feeling was.

"And my grandparents brought mine." Annie added. She made a face. "So I got yelled at by _five_ people, instead of just Becky."

"You're lucky they didn't all demand you be locked in the common room between classes," Becky replied calmly, as they started back toward the Hufflepuff basement. Annie sniffed, and Becky rubbed her shoulder. "You know we're all proud of you for being so ready to help your friends. We just didn't expect you to scare the feathers off us like that." George made a snorting noise that suggested he'd heard the same from his family.

"I don't think my parents had that problem," Mitchell remarked ruefully. His friends all giggled, and Mitchell went on, "At least, Mum kept telling me I was just like Dad and she ought to box both our ears. She didn't," he added quickly. "And then they told me Mr. Sinclair has to go back to Azkaban, but Professor Slughorn had helped prove he wasn't helping them because he wanted to, so he probably won't have to stay in extra time."

"My dad told me that," Loki nodded. "He also told me... did your parents tell you about the Campbell-Hardwickes?" His friends all shook their heads. Well, that meant it was Loki's job to do it. "You know how, after they'd helped other families get out of Britain, your parents nearly got caught by Death Eaters that time?" Mitchell nodded. Annie let out a little gasp, obviously realizing what Loki was about to tell them-- at least part of it. Loki went on, "It was the Campbell-Hardwickes who attacked them. Your parents never told you that?"

Mitchell shook his head. "They never mentioned any names. They might not even know them-- I don't suppose they cared _which_ Death Eaters tried to kill them."

"No, I suppose not. Well, it turns out the Campbell-Hardwickes didn't just try to kill your parents. They really _did_ kill mine." Loki was aware his words sounded... unfeeling, but he needed more time to think quietly about this before it would start to feel real to him. He'd brooded about what he _believed_ for so long, it was hard to take in what had turned out to be _true._

Mitchell stopped short in the corridor and George piled into him from behind. "You're kidding. You mean-- you mean your birth parents _weren't_ Death Eaters?"

Loki shook his head. "No," he said. And then something silly came over him. "No, they were something much worse."

"Worse?" Annie asked, wide-eyed. 

"What could possibly be _worse?"_ George demanded. 

Loki glanced at Mitchell, leaned forward as if about to share a terrible secret, and said mournfully, "They were _Irish."_

All three of his friends stared at him for a second, as if they hadn't understood what he said. Then Mitchell punched him in the arm, and they all burst out laughing. 

~oOo~

The one class Loki managed to attend that day was Astronomy theory, which was held at the end of the afternoon, after his parents had left. The teacher, Madame Sinistra, didn't make any kind of fuss about what had happened, which suited Loki just fine since this class was shared with Gryffindor and Loki was already nervous about facing Clint again.

He wasn't the only one, apparently: all the Hufflepuffs stuck close as they reached the classroom at the top of the Astronomy tower. There they found Gryffindor already waiting, looking just as uncomfortable and anxious as Loki felt. 

Before Loki could decide how he should act, Clint walked toward him. Loki would have worried about what to expect from the other boy, except Clint looked just as anxious as Loki felt. 

Just as he reached Loki, Clint reached into his pocket and brought out something small and wriggling. 

"Here," Clint said, extending it toward Loki. "You should take this back."

Loki looked at Clint's outstretched hand, and realized Clint had been talking to Thor: the other boy was holding out the tiny enchanted model of a Welsh green dragon that Loki had given him for Christmas. 

Well, it wasn't as if Loki hadn't known Clint might reject the gift if he knew who had given it to him. That was the reason he hadn't signed the gift card in the first place. Still, he tried to protest. 

"That's yours," he said quietly. "Even if you don't like me, Thor said you liked the dragon. You can keep it if you want to. I won't tell anyone I gave it to you."

"It's not that," Clint said, blinking quickly and speaking just as quietly as Loki. "I, I've been... You shouldn't give me a _present_ after everything I did to be nasty to you."

Loki wiggled. "I just... Look, Clint, I... I gave you a gift because I felt guilty about... about... When I gave you that present, I thought my birth parents were Death Eaters. I wanted to give you something because I didn't think it was fair for me to, to have... It felt like _my_ fault you and Barney don't... It turned out I was wrong about that: my parents were just ordinary Muggles, like your dad tried to help, so I, I owe him and your mother something, anyway, for helping Muggle-borns like me." Clint was staring at him, and Loki felt horribly embarrassed. "You don't have to keep it if you don't want it. You can, you can throw it away, or give it to someone else, or anything you want with it. It's yours. I know we're not friends, but I really did want to... to... I don't know. It was a dumb idea, but I, I meant well. I'm sorry if it, if it upset you. I guess I knew it might, but I hoped you'd... like it."

Clint looked down at the toy in his hand, just as embarrassed as Loki. "I do like it. It's just, I was... I wasn't very-- "

"Well, neither was I," Loki pointed out. "You didn't have much reason to like me. But, but I think Thor and I are going to... we'll try, anyway, to be... well, not enemies anymore, at least. It would be nice if you and I could try to not be enemies, either."

Clint looked relieved, and it occurred to Loki that maybe that was what _Clint_ had wanted to say, when he first came over to speak to Loki. The other boy put the dragon back into his pocket-- then held out his hand again. 

Loki shook it.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which we bring this story to an end, hoping I haven't left any major plot threads dangling nor yet tied things up  too neatly. Thank you to everyone who's been commenting or just reading, for your indulgence and enthusiasm with this idea. You are all much appreciated!
> 
> **Warnings:** None needed.

Professor Sinistra's practical astronomy classes were always interesting, but Loki and his friends usually found astronomy theory classes kind of dull-- there were just so many stars and planets to remember, lists and lists of them. Loki often felt tired after astronomy, all the students did, but today's class ended with everyone in a good mood. The two sets of first-years walked together to the Great Hall for dinner, chattering happily, for the first time in what felt like weeks. 

Really, Loki amended to himself, most of the Gryffindors had always been quite friendly with him. It was just that they were also friendly with Clint, and so the tension between Clint and Loki was uncomfortable for them. It had been uncomfortable for the Hufflepuffs, too, but unlike the Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs hadn't had any sense of confused loyalties. Rightly or not, the Hufflepuffs had decided Loki was the injured party, and they hadn't made any bones about favouring him over Clint. Loki felt a little guilty about that, especially about not making any effort to encourage his own friends to be Clint's friends, too. 

Well, he promised himself, there was plenty of time to make up for it. He and Clint were still shy of each other, but Peggy and Maria and Annie clustered around them and talked back and forth as they walked, making it easy for both boys to join in the conversation without feeling too conspicuous. 

Once in the Great Hall, they split up to join their own houses, calling final remarks to each other as they went. Loki and his friends were just sitting down at the Hufflepuff table when there was a rush in the corner of his eye. The next thing Loki knew, he and his friends were practically pounced on by first-years from Ravenclaw and Slytherin. 

Darcy was, of course, in the lead, with Natasha and Ian right behind her and Jane tugging at her sleeve. She was already talking as she reached them: 

"I can't believe it, you _Hufflepuffs_ went on a heroic quest all by yourselves and didn't even invite the rest of us along. Do you know how bad that makes us look? _Hufflepuffs_ going to fight Death Eaters, all by yourselves? What were you thinking? Running off without a single Ravenclaw to do the thinking, or Slytherin to do the plotting-- "

"We had Stark," Mitchell managed to interject, and Darcy flapped her hands at him. 

"Oh, please. There are times when I think Stark might as well be a Gryffindor."

Jane poked her. "Stop that!"

"I wouldn't say that to his face if I were you," Ian warned, and Darcy grinned at him. 

"We had Barney Barton, too," Loki reminded her, and that made even Darcy stop for a minute and look serious.

"Is he all right?" Bruce spoke up, before Darcy could start being silly again. He tilted his head toward their Slytherin friends and explained, "They said he didn't come back to the house with Stark, and I, I don't like to go ask Clint-- "

"He wasn't hurt, exactly," Annie said carefully. "But he was… he was awfully upset." Her eyes went far-away for a moment, remembering, and she shivered a little. "He was upset," she repeated.

"My mum says he was taken to St. Mungo's," Loki said. Everyone looked at him in surprise, and he realized nobody had told the other kids this piece of information. He felt a little uncomfortable about being the only one who knew it, and more than a little uneasy about telling it. Only he'd already let the cat halfway out of the bag anyway, so he went on, "She says there are, there are healers who can help him. They have, have special training."

"Like a psychologist?" George asked. When the wizard-born members of the group-- and Loki-- looked blank, he tried to explain: "That's a kind of healer that helps people who… who feel scared or angry or sad all the time. They try to help the person work out _why_ they feel that way, and to help them solve the problem, or at least learn how to think and act differently, so… so they can be happier, and, you know, live their lives." George made a face. "Sorry, I'm not explaining it very well."

"No, I think I know what you mean," Jane said quickly. She glanced at Darcy, who looked thoughtfully back at her. Loki remembered the girls were cousins, and he wondered if there might be someone in their family who maybe needed a healer like the one George was describing. The way Barney and Thor-- and Loki-- did.

Probably a lot of people, now that he thought about it.

"That sounds like a good idea," Bruce said softly. "I didn't know there were healers like that, but I think Barney really needs someone to help him."

"I didn't know you were such a friend of his," Darcy said, looking curiously at Bruce. 

Bruce shrugged uneasily. "I'm not. I hadn't thought about him much for years, until I got here and saw him again. But… like I said, he and Clint lived with my aunt and me for a while, when I was little. And… and he wasn't _always_ angry and scary. I got remembering that, after the day we saw him with Professor Slughorn watching Stark test that broom. He could, he could be really nice sometimes. Like he _wanted_ to be kind to Clint and me, only then he'd get angry again and-- " Bruce wiggled. "I talked with my aunt, over Christmas. She remembers him that way, too. She was hoping the next place he and Clint went, someone would help them."

"Well, someone's going to help him now," Jane said encouragingly. Bruce nodded, then smiled quickly at Loki and his friends. 

"Anyway, we're glad all of you are safe. Even if you were idiots to run off and get into danger like that."

"Without _us,"_ Darcy returned to her original complaint. "Don't forget that part. If you're going to be idiots you have to let the rest of us in on it. Remember that, the next time."

"Promise," Mitchell said, laughing. And then he stopped, his face going still. Loki turned to see what Mitchell was looking at.

Thor and his friends-- and Mr. Longbottom-- were standing behind the Slytherin and Ravenclaw first-years. All of them except the teacher looked awkward and rather shy. Mr. Longbottom started to say something, but before he could Jane had caught Darcy by the wrist and dragged her away. The rest of the group excused themselves to Loki and his friends, and then followed. 

Natasha, who hadn't spoken so far-- not that this was unusual for Natasha-- waited a moment as the others scooted away. She leaned toward Loki and said quietly, 

"Clint told me that you pushed him out of the way, when the Death Eater tried to curse him. Thank you."

She was gone before Loki could reply, leaving him to face Thor and Thor's friends. He took a nervous breath. 

And then he realized, that was just habit, and a silly habit at that. There was no reason for him to be nervous of his brother anymore, or even of his brother's friends. Thor's friends still didn't like him, of course-- except perhaps for Volstagg, who least didn't seem to want treat him as an enemy anymore-- but that didn't really matter. Thor wouldn't let his friends _hurt_ Loki. Not now. And besides, they only disliked Loki because Thor did. Used to. If Thor wasn't angry at him and Loki let them alone, they'd probably be happy to let him alone, too. 

Which didn't explain why they were all here right now, in front of everyone, unless--

"Loki, we all owe you an apology," Thor said, speaking much too loudly for indoors. He sounded as if he was calling to a team mate across the Quidditch pitch. By the end of the sentence, most of the kids sitting down to dinner were looking at him. 

Loki started to answer, to tell him they could talk about this later, privately, and anyway Thor had already apologized. He didn't have a chance: face red but determined, Thor went on, 

"I said some really cruel, stupid things about you not being my brother because you're adopted. That's nonsense, of course, and I know it: you're adopted, so your mum and dad are my mum and dad, and you're my brother, every bit as much as if you were born in our family. I should never have said what I did, and I'm sorry for doing it. I was… I was angry, and I felt like being ugly to someone, so I picked on you because… because I thought it was safe to. Because whatever happens, we'll always be brothers. I just didn't stop to think about how unfair that was of me, or that if I kept acting that way maybe one of these days maybe you'd decide you didn't _want_ to be my brother anymore."

"I'd never do that," Loki protested, appalled. Of course he wouldn't. Thor wasn't a _Death Eater,_ after all. You might as well say it was right for _Thor_ to disown _Loki_ just for making a nuisance of himself. 

"I hope not," Thor said, and glanced at his friends. Loki expected Volstagg to speak next, although really, Volstagg had nothing to apologize for, since he had made a few obviously-friendly overtures already and had defended Loki to his friends besides. 

He was more surprised than he could say when the next person to speak up was Sif. 

"I'm sorry, too," she said, looking uncomfortable and mutinous and like she was being forced to speak-- or perhaps would just have preferred to say this in private. Truthfully, Loki would have preferred it as well, so they could fix things between themselves and then just let everyone else forget Thor had ever done or said such things to his brother. This had to be really embarrassing for Thor. 

Which, Loki supposed, was why Thor was so determined to make sure he _did_ say it all in front of everyone: so there was no mistake about whether Thor knew he was wrong, or was sorry for what he had said. The Hat really had put him in the right house. 

Sif glanced at Thor, and at Mr. Longbottom, then turned back to Loki. "I went around telling people you weren't Thor's real brother, and that was cruel and, and stupid of me. This isn't an excuse, but… I have three little sisters, and I get tired of babysitting them, and when I used to come over to play with Thor I felt like I didn't want you around because you were younger than us and… it was mean of me. Nobody was asking me to babysit _you,_ I just acted like it. I'm sorry."

"I didn't know you had little sisters," Loki said, rather foolishly. Thor never talked about his friends' families. All Loki knew about them was that they were Thor's. 

"Yes, well, sometimes I'm not very nice to them, either," Sif admitted. "And that isn't any excuse."

"Well, I was a real pest a lot of the time," Loki ventured. It was true and he knew it, only he couldn't have admitted it before, back when Thor and his friends seemed like his only chance to not be alone. He'd been a terrible pest, whether he'd wanted to admit it or not. 

Sif shrugged. "You could have been worse. And it wouldn't have killed me to let Thor include you sometimes, like he wanted to at first. Anyway, I'm glad you weren't hurt too much, chasing after Thor and Clint-- any of you," she added, looking around at Loki's friends-- "and I hope you can forgive me a little bit." Loki was nodding, when Sif suddenly lowered her voice. "I thought Thor was making it up. About you being adopted. I thought it was just something he said because he was angry. I thought he was just…not teasing, but _saying_ it. I wouldn't have spread it any further if I'd known it was _true._ Not that it makes it any better that I did." 

"Well, that time last summer, when I said I was going to tell on you about your jinx duels-- I didn't mean that either," Loki said. "I was just angry. And... a little scared. I wouldn't have told on you." Although, he supposed, he actually _had,_ now, and he glanced nervously at Thor as he spoke. Thor made a rueful face and shrugged.

"I'm sorry, too," Fandral spoke in a rush. "I thought I was being funny, but there was nothing funny about it. Sorry." 

"It's okay," Loki muttered, beginning to be nearly as embarrassed as Thor's friends. Hogun also muttered a little, and then Volstagg glanced at Mr. Longbottom and said,

"I should have spoken up about all this, ages ago. I pretended it wasn't my responsibility, but I'm certainly old enough to know it's wrong to pick on other kids, especially younger ones, and that what they-- we-- were doing wasn't making things better for anybody, including Thor." He looked sheepishly at Mr. Longbottom again, and then said, "Sometimes the best way to show you're a loyal friend is to tell your friends when they're wrong. Anyway, I hope we can… start over." He looked rueful. "I know it's too late for an offer like this to matter very much to you, now that you've got people besides us to go around with, but maybe sometimes you might want to… "

Loki nodded, reflecting that an offer like this, given _before_ Loki had any friends of his own, would have sounded like permission to tag along everywhere until Thor and his friends were even sicker of him than they ever had been. So really, it was just as well it was made now, when Loki wouldn't clutch desperately at it and make an even bigger nuisance of himself than he already had. 

"Maybe we could all do some extra flying together," Thor suggested. "If we can borrow some broomsticks, I mean," he added to Mr. Longbottom. 

"I'm sure we can arrange something," Mr. Longbottom agreed. 

"Okay," Loki said. "I mean, that would be nice. Really nice. Thank you," he said, to Thor, his friends, and the teacher.

Mr. Longbottom smiled, and ushered Thor and his friends back to the Gryffindor table. 

~oOo~

After dinner, Loki, Annie, Mitchell and George decided they had better go to the library. They were armed with notes loaned them by their first-year housemates for the classes they had missed that morning. George had asked Dennis about Transfiguration and Charms the previous afternoon-- Mitchell poked him in the ribs for that-- but Dennis explained that, with eight students missing, Monday afternoon classes had been cancelled and all the students sent back to their respective common rooms. 

"The school couldn't get along without us," Mitchell preened. 

"I think Professor McGonagall was just afraid _all_ of us were going to end up doing something really stupid," Pippa spoke up, as she handed over her class notes from the morning. 

"That makes more sense," Annie said, and even Mitchell had to admit she was right. 

The four friends could have worked in the common room, of course. That is, they could have _if_ they had been able to stop telling stories to their friends about what now felt like an adventure, and buckled down to their work. Which, of course, they knew they wouldn't. The obvious solution was to go to the library, where at least Madame Pince would make sure they didn't waste any time talking. 

"Dennis has terrible handwriting," Mitchell complained as they walked along the corridor leading out of their basement. "Much worse than mine, even. And you know what mine looks like."

"Pippa's writing is quite good," Annie replied. "You can use them to check and make sure you get everything written out properly."

"Olivia's is good, too," Loki reported, examining the parchment his classmate had loaned him. 

"Girls always have better handwriting," Mitchell said confidently. 

"Mine isn't so bad," George argued, glancing back at Mitchell as he walked around a corner. 

And crashed solidly into Professor Fury. 

Annie shrieked, George squeaked, Mitchell yelped and Loki nearly fainted, but when George stumbled backward Loki helped the others catch him. All four kids spluttered terrified apologies, gradually realizing Fury did not seem very… furious… with them. 

"I really haven't eaten a student yet, you know," the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher remarked. Loki's face got hot and Annie blushed, but Professor Fury just said calmly, "I was coming to look for you, Odinson. Stop looking so panicky, what did I just tell you?"

"You-- you haven't eaten a student yet?" Loki squeaked. 

"And don't have any plans to." Professor Fury looked around at Loki's friends. "You lot go wherever you were headed. I'll send him to catch up with you in a minute." Loki's friends looked at him-- rather as if they expected never to see him again-- and Professor Fury actually flapped his hands at them. "Go on-- shoo."

Annie, George, and Mitchell reluctantly shooed, leaving Loki standing in the corridor, nervously facing the teacher. 

Professor Fury sighed. "You know, Odinson, if you'd just told me why you wanted to know about the Campbell-Hardwickes, I would have tried not to scare you quite so much." Not knowing how to answer that, Loki just nodded anxiously. Professor Fury went on, "Your dad had a word with Professor Coulson and me, before he left. Just so you know, neither of us were aware you're adopted."

Loki had been wondering about that. "You weren't?"

Professor Fury shook his head. "No. Neither of us worked closely with your dad, we didn't know your mother, and in those days nobody was telling family stories or sharing baby pictures around the office. Especially after the Ministry fell-- there _was_ no office, we were just scattered all over the place, keeping in contact as well as possible so we could fight together, but we were comrades-in-arms more than friends. 

"Shacklebolt knew about you, because he and your dad were always close, but he was probably the only person in the Ministry who did. And your dad asked him to keep it quiet, I suppose because he and your mother hadn't decided what to tell _you."_ The professor paused. "If I _had_ known, if anyone here at Hogwarts had known you were adopted, I'm pretty sure your parents would have told you before you came. They wouldn't have risked you finding out by accident, from a stranger. Although I don't suppose finding out the way your dad says you did was any easier."

Loki, remembering, shook his head. Professor Fury reached out and, totally unexpectedly, patted Loki lightly on the shoulder. It was as if he thought he ought to offer some sort of comfort, but didn't have any idea how that worked. It was almost funny, really. 

"Anyway," Professor Fury went on, "the Campbell-Hardwickes are Azkaban's problem again, not yours. They're brother and sister, incidentally. Not a married couple." Loki blinked in surprise, and Fury's mouth quirked a little. "I wish I'd thought to tell you that. When you brought them up, I suppose I assumed you knew a little bit about them already, but if I'd mentioned they were siblings you might have figured out on your own that you weren't their son."

That was true, Loki thought, but there was no point in wishing. Besides, there was no telling what kind of story he might have told himself instead, anyway. 

"Next time, if there is a next time, I hope you feel like you can just ask the questions you need to have answered," Professor Fury said. "Ask your parents. I'm pretty sure they've learned their lesson about hiding important facts, or assuming things." He grinned suddenly. "But if they _haven't--_ well, I'd be happy to have a word with Clarence for you. Okay?"

"Okay," Loki agreed quickly. Now _that_ was a terrifying thought. 

Fury nodded. "All right. Run along and join your friends."

Loki did. A few minutes later he was slipping into a chair across from Annie at a library table. 

"What did Professor Fury want?" Mitchell whispered, avid with curiosity. 

"I think he just wanted to make sure I was okay," Loki said, after a moment. 

"Are you?" Annie asked, her brown eyes serious. 

Loki thought about it, looking from Annie to the equally concerned faces of George and Mitchell. Finally, he answered,

"I think… I think I will be." 

~oOo~

_Epilogue: Summer in Elder Cross_

"Loki, watch yourself!" Volstagg shouted, and Loki ducked just in time as the bludger sailed past his head. 

"That's the way!" Thor called, flying by at top speed in an effort to catch up and direct the bludger toward Darcy, who was handling the quaffle for the other team. Mitchell swung his own bat-- with a two-handed grip that nearly knocked him off his broom-- and sent the bludger back at Thor. Thor swerved as the heavy ball came his way, and the bludger went after him. 

"Heads up!" Pippa shrieked, as Thor and the bludger came charging through the opposing team's ranks.

"Pippa, behind you!" Sif yelled from the ground. The younger girl looked around to see the snitch glittering through the air, and her upper body jerked backward a little as her broom's acceleration left her behind. Ian just barely got out of the way as the snitch buzzed past him, with Pippa in pursuit.

"Go, Clint!" Natasha, Jane and Annie shouted, and Clint also set out after the snitch, his brother calling encouragement from his position in the makeshift goal. The snitch turned as it reached the containing spell that Dad had set to keep the game within bounds-- and also from being noticed by any Muggle who might happen by. Pippa twisted sideways, the powerful broom she was riding practically turning itself in pursuit of the snitch. Pippa reached out as Clint tried to catch up, and her fingers closed around the snitch.

"Got it!" she cried, and on the ground her team shouted in excitement. Loki, Becky and Annie cheered their housemate-- then remembered they were on the other team and tried to look sorry. 

"Nice flying," Clint called to her. 

"Thanks," Pippa replied. "It was all the broomstick, really."

"That Lightning Bolt isn't easy to fly," Clint pointed out. "I nearly fell right off when I tried it. Good job."

"Thanks for letting me try your broomstick, Thor," Pippa added, as the two teams landed. 

"Glad to," Thor replied. "You flew it really well. Does anyone else want to try the Lightning Bolt? Loki, do you want another turn?"

"No, thank you Thor," Loki said. "It's a little too much broomstick for me. Are we playing another game?"

"I think," said Mr. Mitchell, as he walked toward them across the grass, "your mother wants you all to come back to the house and have something to eat first."

There was a little muttering, but mostly from Sif, Thor, and Pippa-- the other kids were mostly ready to have lunch. They gathered up the broomsticks-- every one they could bring or borrow from around Elder Cross-- and walked back up the lane to the Odinsons' holiday home. 

It was the first week of summer holidays. Exam results had arrived, and to his relief Loki had done quite well in everything, even Potions. He hoped next year he'd do even better-- with any luck there would be no distractions as serious as the ones he'd had this year. 

Mum had suggested the family have an early weekend in Elder Cross, and invite all the boys' friends to visit for an afternoon. The group had turned out to be much bigger than she had probably expected-- it was a good thing the weather was nice, so they could to have lunch in the garden. 

Loki was mostly responsible for the numbers: in addition to his three closest friends, he had asked to include the rest of his first-year friends in the invitation. Clint was Thor's friend as well as Loki's, and Thor's circle of friendship had expanded a little so Barney was invited too. The Bartons were spending the summer with Bruce and his aunt, and they had all come together by floo. And then Thor had asked Becky as well, since she was in several classes with Volstagg and had always been friendly to Loki. 

The all-inclusive Quidditch game had been Thor's idea. He'd also been generous about letting anyone who wanted try his Lightning Bolt-- of Loki's friends, only Pippa and Mitchell were good enough flyers to really take advantage of its speed and handling, but it was still fun to fly it gently. The game was a lot of fun: their age differences didn't seem to matter for this afternoon, at least, and by now there seemed to be less of a divide between Loki's friends and Thor's friends. 

Loki, walking along with George and Annie, looked up with a smile as his big brother fell into step beside him. 

"Want to play again after lunch?" Thor offered, and he sounded sincere. 

"I think probably Pippa and maybe some of the others will want to," Loki said, "but Dennis would like to visit with the owls, because he's still deciding what kind he likes best. So maybe we should all just see what everyone wants to do after lunch?"

"Okay," Thor said. "You're welcome to join us, you know."

"And you're welcome to come play with the owls, if you want to," Loki told his brother. Then Mitchell called to Loki and the others to catch up, and Fandral to Thor. Thor smiled and patted Loki on the shoulder, and both sets of friends all went on to the house together.


End file.
